


You're What I Want(You're What I Need)

by avdubs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Widowed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avdubs/pseuds/avdubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger’s life is chaos. She has a two-year-old daughter,  she and Ron are in the middle of a divorce, she’s moving into a new place and she recently started her own organization to help the less fortunate members of the Wizarding Community. Her friends are all busy with their own lives, and it seems she’s never going to find moments of relief and peace. Until Draco Malfoy comes into her office one day, inquiring about an open position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a fresh start

**Author's Note:**

> So, new story. Any italicized scenes are past events. Ron and Hermione's relationship will be explored through these, as will Draco and Astoria's. Let me know what you think!

 

**Hermione**

 

_February, 2008_

 

_A Better Place Foundation, London_

 

Hermione buried her nose into her scarf, shielding herself against the cold winter wind. Snow fell onto her hair and shoulders as she pulled open the doors to _A Better Place_ , and into its warmth; she smiled at her secretary Gretchen, before making her way to her office. Her office door shut behind her, she leaned against it, coffee in one hand and her cognac bag sliding down her arm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was only eight in the morning, and already she wished for the day’s end. This was nothing new, however. It’d been this way for almost a month now and the stress was only mounting as time went on.

 

Hermione brought her cup to her lips and took her first sip of coffee. She hummed at the taste, then let out an exasperated sigh as her daughter’s cries echoed in her mind.

 

Rose had thrown a tantrum this morning, refusing to get dressed and throwing her cereal to the floor. “I go with you!” she’d screeched after Hermione told her she would be visiting her grandmother’s again. Molly often watched Rose for her on the days Hermione had her, while she went to work.

 

“You can’t, Rose,” she’d said gently as her two year old continued to wail. She felt awful, taking her daughter to her grandmother’s even though she didn’t want to go, but she had too much to do and bringing Rose would just be a distraction. She loved bringing Rose to work with her; she even had a part of her office set up for her, but today she just couldn’t.

 

She sighed and pushed off the door, stripping off her coat, gloves, and scarf. She sat down behind her desk, and sliding her bag onto her lap, she pulled out a stack of papers and laid them on her desk. She exhaled slowly, dropped her bag on the floor, and picked up the papers. Divorce papers. _This is amicable,_ she reminded herself. _We both want this._

 

* * *

 

_December, 1998_

 

_The Burrow_

 

_Ron’s thumb caressed her jawline, his lips just inches from hers. They lay on his bed, under the covers, their clothes discarded on the floor. He looked at her with admiration, love; his eyes twinkling in the orange glow of his room. “I love you, Hermione,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers._

 

_“I love you, too,” she said before kissing him again, pressing her body to his. Her stomach fluttered and her heart swelled in her chest.  It was the first time either had said those words, but she knew she meant it. She loved him, with everything she had. She’d known, in those first few months after the war, that she was falling, really falling, for him. Every tense and moody day, every sweat drenched, sleepless night fraught with nightmares, every moment of recovery that they helped each other through only further solidified her love._

 

* * *

 

She’d spent the last few weeks wondering how they’d gotten to this point. She’d poured over their memories, trying to find the exact moment when the flame burned out, but it was still hard to remember when the constant arguing had really started; all the fights seemed to blur together in her mind. Countless nights of screaming themselves hoarse, days spent in silence as they avoided one another at all costs, slamming doors, watching Ron walk out time and time again to cool off…

 

 _Perhaps I should have seen this coming,_ she thought bitterly, shoving the papers back into her bag.

 

At four o’clock, she had a meeting with Ron and their lawyers, to go over the final copy of the divorce papers that sat in front of her. Neither of them put up a fight about anything during the divorce. Hermione didn’t mind getting a place of her own, and Ron had no problem with each of them keeping their own earnings and possessions. They’d settled on joint custody of Rose. Hermione would keep her Sunday through Wednesday afternoon, while Ron had her Wednesday night to Sunday morning. For a couple who fought all the time, it was awfully easy for the two of them to agree on the ending.

 

Unsurprisingly, to Hermione at least, it had been Molly that put up the biggest fight. (Hermione hadn’t forgotten the tiny easter egg Molly sent in her fourth year.) When the news of the divorce reached Molly’s ears, Hermione had merely pursed her lips when a letter appeared on her desk the next morning. She met her mother-in-law for lunch as she had requested and prepared for the worst, but hadn’t been able to sit through it. Molly’d fired suggestion after suggestion at her while they ate, and after fifteen minutes of Hermione repeating herself that they’ve tried that, she lost her cool.

 

“We don’t _want_ to be with each other anymore, all right?” she’d snapped, slapping down her fork and knife. “We--we’re done trying. It’s over…” her voice grew softer as her anger subsided and the truth weighed upon both of them. “I’m sorry,” she said before bolting from her seat.

 

Hermione shook her head, scattering the unpleasant memory and took another sip of her coffee.

 

All she had to do was get through this work day, then she could focus on everything else. “ _Like the divorce papers you’re going to sign,”_ said a voice in her head. She glanced at her bag, but then pointedly looked away. She was not going to think about it today. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the piece of parchment she kept front and center on her desk; her to-do list.

 

_Return the Minister’s letter_

 

She had refused to work _for_ the Ministry after the war as she’d been determined to see how they turned out. She would not work for a corrupt system, for a government that deceived its people. She still had to correspond with them, however. Running an organization meant she had to deal with permits, building codes, and laws (though those she sometimes argued, seeing as most of their were ludicrous, outdated or discriminatory). She still had to answer to the Minister of Magic, even if she didn’t technically work for him. It was nothing against Kingsley, she respected the man, and he had respected her reasonings for not wanting to work in government.

 

Hermione pulled out a clean piece of parchment, her inkpot, and quill, and began the letter. She was trying to devise an education program within _A Better Place_ , a foundation for magical beings in need that she officially founded three years ago, so those who were living here would have something to take away from it whenever they left. Considering she housed orphans from the last war, werewolves, and squibs, she felt it would be a beneficial program. However, Kingsley wanted her to present her case to him on Thursday at three p.m. When she’d first read the letter, she laughed with relief. For once she wouldn’t have to reschedule a meeting; Rose would be with Ron on that day, leaving her day free for meetings and work.

 

She let out a breath she seemed to be holding when she signed the letter and set down her quill. She folded the letter up, slipped it into an envelope and sealed it. With the envelope addressed to the Minister, Hermione took out it to Gretchen. “Can you make sure this gets sent out with the morning post, please?”

 

Gretchen nodded, taking the letter from Hermione, then said, “It’s none of my business but,” the younger blonde bit her lip. “Is everything okay? Aside from here, I mean.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly before she forced her features to remain blank. She wasn’t one to discuss personal problems at work, and especially not with her employees. She was their boss, it was inappropriate. Gretchen only meant well, she knew that, but she was having a rough day. _Again_. “Just make sure the letter gets sent out, please.” Hermione ordered, before turning on her heel to retreat to her office.

 

“Of course,” Gretchen muttered at her.

 

Once back inside her office, Hermione picked up her list again. “Right, that’s done. What’s next?”

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_February, 2008_

 

_Malfoy Manor_

 

Draco watched Scorpius pick up his toy wand with glee, screeching and waving it wildly in the air. His lips pulled into a smile as an ache settled into his chest; he had Astoria’s smile. Draco heard the sound of heels on the marble floors, and smelled the faintest trace of lemon and honey. A moment later, his mother entered the sitting room, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of tea. He thanked her when she handed him one, and inhaled the aroma, smiling as he did so.

 

“So,” Narcissa said, settling down in an armchair with her own tea. “What is it you needed talk with me about?”

 

He cleared his throat and glanced at Scorpius, who was now attempting to walk towards his grandmother. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation; he’d been worrying himself sick for days at the thought of it. But he had to tell her and there was no delicate way to say it. He allowed himself a few more moments of silence while he sipped his tea.

 

“I’ve decided to sell father’s company.” he said, keeping his tone calm and even. “I’ll be getting ten million galleons, and I’ll be giving eight million to you. I’m searching for a new job, and the funds we’ll have will be sufficient in the meantime.”

 

Narcissa allowed herself a small gasp, then set her mouth in a thin line. She gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles were turning white and stared hard at Draco, before turning to glance at her grandson who was now standing in front of her, holding his arms out to her. Her expression softened as she set her tea down and picked Scorpius up, sitting him in her lap. She turned back to her son, her eyes narrowed at him. “Why, in Salazar’s name, would you want to do that, Draco?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

 

He sighed heavily, rubbing at his temples. “Mother, Father won’t be out of Azkaban for another fifteen years. And… I need something new, something different. Which, actually, brings me to my next point of order.” he said, and watch as his mother drew in a breath, sitting straighter in her chair, and gripping her teacup as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. “I’m moving to London. Well, we are, Scorpius and I,” he faltered as he watched the color drain from his mother’s face. “I can’t live in that house anymore, mother.” he said quietly, dropping his gaze to his fingers wringing in his lap. “It’s time for a change.”

 

Narcissa said nothing for a full minute. Scorpius was now entranced by the necklace she wore, and grasping at fistfuls of her hair in his little, pudgy hands. “It’s only been six months,” she said, her voice soft, barely audible over Scorpius’s incoherent rambling. “Is all of this really necessary?” she asked, gazing up at him now. “Is this absolutely what you need, Draco?”

 

Draco nodded solemnly, drained the last of his tea and cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, it is.” he said again, more clearly and firmly this time.

 

His mother sighed and wrapped her arms around Scorpius before standing up. Draco stood as well, holding out his arms so his son could return to him. With Scorpius adjusted against his hip, his little, blond head resting against his shoulder, Draco said his goodbyes to his mother. “I’ll keep you updated with the details, promise.” he murmured as he kissed her cheek.

 

Before he stepped back, Narcissa held her hand to his face, searching his features. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes glossy and her bottom lip trembling slightly. He felt his own legs grow shaky; he never really saw his mother get emotional. “As long as this is what you need,” she said firmly yet gently.

 

Draco smiled. “Thank you, mother.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Hermione**

 

_February, 2008_

 

_Grimmauld Place_

 

_6:42 pm_

 

Hermione sat on the sofa in the living room with Harry and Ginny; Hermione and Harry nursing a butterbeer, and Ginny sipping on her tea. James, Albus and Rose all sat on the carpet in front of them, each occupied with their own toy and lost in their own world. The fire crackled in the background, the only other sound being the squeals of their children.

 

Finally, Ginny said bracingly, “How’d the meeting go?”

 

“Well enough, I suppose.” Hermione said, letting out a long breath. She picked at the label on her butterbeer. “Considering the circumstances.”

 

Ron had been a few minutes late, which she had predicted to the lawyer. Her soon to be ex-husband hardly even acknowledged her as he sat down, and despite the fact that she wanted this divorce, she couldn’t ignore the fact that it stung a little; his disregard. No, his oblivion to her. Like she didn’t exist. Before they were husband and wife, Merlin before they were even dating, they were best friends. And this divorce was supposed to be amicable, they had both wanted this. In fact, their conversation involving the divorce papers was the first civil conversation they’d had in what felt like weeks.

As she sipped her butterbeer, the memory the first he brought it up came flooding to her mind.

 

* * *

 

_December, 2007_

 

_Ron and Hermione’s flat, London_

 

_He always got home from work after her; while she could set her own hours and even work from home, Ron was still at the mercy of the Auror department. So it was no surprise to her when he didn’t come home until half past ten that night. He hadn’t called out to her when he came through the door, her only greeting being his shoes thudding against their hardwood floors. Hermione gathered her payroll paperwork and stacked them all into a neat pile on the coffee table. She sipped at her wine, and leaned back into the couch, waiting for Ron to appear._

 

_When he did come into view, the first thing she noticed was the large envelope in his hands. He grimaced when their eyes meet, her jaw slack at first; she’d been taken aback slightly. Ron sat down on the opposite end of the couch and tossed the envelope onto the table. He said nothing as Hermione picked up the envelope, her hands slightly trembling and pulled out the papers inside._

 

_“It’s our last option...I don’t know…” he trailed off and cleared his throat. “We’ve tried everything else.”_

 

_She nodded, her eyes not leaving the stack of papers in her hands. “Of course,” she muttered. “Our last option.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Hermione?” Harry said, pulling her from her thoughts. He looked at her, concerned, eyes narrowing at her in attempt to read her. Harry had always been good at that. Ginny looked between the two of them, her lips pressed tightly together.

 

“Sorry,” she said after a moment. Memories still fresh in her mind, and the awfulness of the day settling in, she stood up quickly from the couch and set down her half-finished butterbeer. “I should get Rose home,” she said hurriedly, fetching her and Rose’s jackets with a flick of her wand. Hermione scooped Rose into her arms, fixing her up in her jacket and hat. When she stopped fidgeting, she saw Harry and Ginny staring at her. “What?” she said, wrapping her own scarf around her neck.

 

“It’s barely seven thirty,” Ginny pointed out.

 

“And Rose is two, and I have work again tomorrow.” Hermione replied with ease. When Harry and Ginny shared a knowing look, Hermione sighed, adjusting Rose on her hip. “Guys really, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

 

“It’s all right if you’re upset,” Harry said quickly as she stepped into the fireplace with Rose and a pinch of floo powder in her free hand.

 

Hermione smiled at him sadly, cocking her head to the side. “Thanks for the drink,” she said before tossing the powder down and calling out for home.

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_February, 2008_

 

_London_

 

He stared around the new, boxed filled flat with Scorpius in his arms. He took in the amount of windows throughout each room. _Plenty of natural light, excellent,_ he thought to himself. It was spacious, allowing his only son, only child, plenty of room to play and run. Not as much as he had had as a child, what with the endless hallways and empty rooms never used, the enormous grounds filled with delicately and diligently maintained gardens. But this was enough. Draco hadn’t necessarily needed all that room as a child.

 

Draco turned to his son as they entered what would be Scorpius’s room. “What do you think, Scorp?” he whispered, nuzzling his head against Scorpius’s. Scorpius let out a giggle and clapped his hands together. “It big!”  

 

Draco chuckled, then sighed. “It _is_ big, you’re right, son.”

 

Scorpius looked up at him then down at the floor and nearly screeched, “Down!”

 

His brows furrowed together. He pointed a scolding finger at his son. “Scorpius, you need to ask nicely.” he explained calmly, yet firmly.

 

Scorpius pouted and folded his arms across his chest. His light brown eyes were glossy and wide as his son stared up at him. “I sorry, daddy.” he said quietly, hanging his head.

 

Draco kissed the top of his head and hugged him tight. “Apology accepted, Scorp. Can you say, please let me down?”

 

He watched with joy as his son’s face screwed up in concentration, the little toddler determined to repeat his father’s words. Draco waited, but when Scorpius didn’t speak, he prompted him. “Please…”

 

“Pwease…” Scorpius repeated. Draco giggled inaudibly. He said every word for Scorpius while he echoed him before Draco set him down to explore. With nothing unpacked yet, he couldn’t actually get into much. He’d sealed the boxes with a simple charm, yet strong enough to keep his son out of trouble.

 

He watched Scorpius roam around his new room, falling every now and again when he picked up his pace, but standing back up every time. Draco waved his wand at the boxes marked ‘Scorp’s toys’, and cleared a space for him to play in the meantime. “Hey Scorp,” he said, crouching down next to his son who had picked up his toy broomstick. “Auntie Pansy, and Uncle Theo are going to be here soon.” Scorpius’s face lit up, the broomstick falling from his hands. “Dey are?!” Draco nodded, unable to keep the smile from his face. “But we have to unpack all of our belongings, so can you be a big helper for us?” Scorpius nodded eagerly, waiting for his instruction. “We’ll need your help unpacking your room, so stay in here while we unpack everything else okay?”

 

Scorpius didn’t look too happy about this, but nodded anyway. “Okay, daddy. Play with my toys?” he asked, pointing down at his broomstick in particular. Draco nodded. “Yes, Scorp. Play with your toys.”

 

Almost as if one cue, he heard a loud rushing sound then coughing. _That’ll be Theo,_ he thought to himself.

 

His suspicions were confirmed when he heard his friend call out, “Draco, where’ve you gone, mate?” Draco gave Scorpius a kiss on the cheek and told him to behave then went to greet Theo in the living room.

 

“Sorry Theo,” he said in lieu of greeting. “I set up Scorpius in his room while we unpack.”

 

“No matter,” Theo said, waving a dismissive hand. His wavy dirty blond locks were still covered with soot from the floo, and there was a spot on his cheek.

 

“You’ve still got a bit of--” Draco pointed to his cheek, then his hair as Theo brushed away the ash.

 

“Any chance I could apparate next time?” Theo asked with a frown, running his hand through his hair.

 

Draco shrugged. “You could have. You would have had to enter from the street outside, but…” There was a knock at the door. Draco smirked, and strode over to the door, already knowing who was behind it.

 

Theo rolled his eyes when Pansy stepped into Draco’s flat, her scarf obscuring the lower half of her face. “Why I didn’t think of it…” Theo mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 

Pansy kissed Draco on the cheek, and handed him her coat, scarf and bag. “Not bad,” she said, taking in the new flat. “Small, compared to what we’re used to.” she stepped further into the living room and went to peer into the kitchen.

 

While Pansy went to have a look around, Theo came to stand next to Draco. “Doing all right, mate?” he asked in a low voice.

 

He shrugged again. “I have my good days and bad days. Scorp helps. He doesn’t really understand…” he took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I just couldn’t live there anymore, Theo. She was everywhere. I just--I had to get out of there.”

 

* * *

 

_September, 2001_

 

_Wiltshire_

 

_“What do you think, love?” Draco asked, watching nervously as Astoria stepped into the foyer of their new home. It was a bit smaller than the Manor, the grounds not nearly as big or spacious. There were only three floors, and nowhere near as many rooms or corridors as his own childhood home. Still large, but nothing compared to Malfoy Manor._

 

_“I’d like to redecorate,” Astoria commented, inspecting every inch of the room. Draco laughed, then moved to walk alongside her. He’d been expecting that, and he had no problem with the matter. He wasn’t fond of the decor the place had come with, but they both had the money. It was never a worry._

 

_They moved into what would be their living room, and he watched and listened as she talked about what she would change, how she wanted the furniture arranged, what paintings she would put where. He was reminded of his mother, who’d always had an eye for this sort of thing. An image of his wife and mother redecorating their new home sprang to his mind. He gazed at Astoria fondly, who was in the midst of explaining her plans for their bedroom. When she realized he wasn’t listening, she stopped and frowned at him. Before she could speak, Draco stepped forward and pulled Astoria into his arms, kissing her gently, yet passionately on the lips. “You continue to amaze me, you know that, right?” he whispered._

 

_Astoria laughed, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. “We may be married Draco, but we’ve only known each other--I mean, really known each other a few years.”_

 

_“And now we have the rest of our lives to amaze one another,” he said, running his thumb along her jawline before dipping his head to kiss her again._

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t taken them long to unpack and setup each room. Just a few waves of their wands and everything was in order. The cutlery, bowls, plates and cups were in their cupboards. The couch was pushed into place, facing the fireplace. Pansy had taken over the task of putting out the decorations, art and other knickknacks by hand. “It isn’t something you _want_ to do with magic, Draco. Each choice matters. They complete the room.” she said as if he should have known this. Which given who his wife had been, he probably should have. Not that he didn’t have taste, he was a Pureblood and a Malfoy, but he didn’t have that _eye_ for it like his mother or Astoria did, and that Pansy had as well apparently. So he let her to it while he and Theo went to do Scorpius’s room as he’d promised.

 

When all of his furniture was unpacked, set up and in place, they’d let Scorpius put his toys in his toy bin and his books on his bookcase. They helped Scorpius put all of his clothes into his dresser, and let him line up his shoes in his closet. “All done!” Scorpius said at the end of it all, clapping his hands together and smiling proudly up at his father and Theo.

 

Draco picked Scorpius up and give him a big, wet kiss on the cheek, sending his toddler into giggles. “You were a big help, Scorp!” he told him. “And you did a great job letting us do our work.”

 

“Welcome, daddy.” he said shyly while Theo ruffled his hair.

 

“Can you say thank you to Uncle Theo for helping us?” Draco asked. Scorpius turned and thanked Theo.

 

“Sure thing, Scorp.” Theo said while looking at Draco. Getting the hint, Draco let Scorpius down and told him to go find Pansy and thank her as well. “We could stay longer, you know. It’s quarter past five anyway, we could order in dinner. The Leaky Cauldron would deliver if I paid them enough, I’m sure.”

 

Draco shook his head and put a hand to stop him. “Thanks, Theo. Really. For all your help today, and Pansy’s too. But I’m exhausted, and Scorp is going to be tired soon too. We were up early and I didn’t sleep well--”

 

“Say no more,” Theo said, though he didn’t look or sound convinced. He clapped Draco on the shoulder and left Scorpius’s bedroom. Draco stayed where he was, not wanting to be there when Theo told Pansy they were leaving now. She wasn’t going to be happy, and he expected her to put a fight. He was only partially right.

 

He heard the clicking of her heels against his hardwood floors, then the soft knock of her knuckles against the open door. He didn’t even turn around to face her. He couldn’t with this lump in his throat and his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. “You don’t always have to be alone, Draco.” he heard her say, though her tone was unusually gentle. “We loved Astoria too. We were her friends too. And I’m not…” Pansy sighed. “Sometimes, Theo and I just want to sit with you. Be around you. We don’t have to talk, about her, about anything. We love you, too. Don’t push us away…”

 

Draco wanted to tell her that he knew all of this. He knew they were hurting too, not in the same way he was, but they were still hurting. He knew he shouldn’t push them away, isolate himself. But every time he’d forced himself to be around his friends, or to go out in public, he’d find himself wishing that he was alone. Not to mention, it had been an exhausting day, even without the usual weight of his grief. He’d left most of his packing to last minute, which was only partially his fault, as the week prior he’d been swamped with meetings and preparing paperwork for the sale of his father’s company. He was worn out, sore, and he desperately just wanted to have a quiet meal with his son, and get him ready for him bed.

 

“Thanks, Pansy.” he managed to say, explaining none of his true feelings on the matter. Pansy clucked her tongue and walked away, the clicking of her heels fading with every step. When he heard Pansy and Theo say goodbye to Scorpius and the door shut behind them, Draco left his son’s bedroom to find Scorpius waddling down the hall, looking upset.

 

As soon as his son reached him, he said, “Daddy, why Pansy and Deo leave?” Draco sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose before picking up his son. “Daddy is really tired, Scorp. So it’s just you and me tonight, okay?” he said as patiently and kindly as he could muster at the moment.

 

“Okay,” Scorpius said, pouting again and casting his gaze at the ground. Draco sighed again, and carried Scorpius into the kitchen to find them something to eat.

 


	2. i'm trying, i swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say that i don't have a beta for this story and i don't really edit it that diligently before i upload so pls feel free to tell me about any mistakes you come across while reading. i'll work on this fic when i'm not writing a new chapter for unexpected (but that is still my main focus), so new chapters could take anywhere from a couple of days to a week. 
> 
> anyway, happy reading and let me know your thoughts!

**Hermione**

 

_ March 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation, London _

 

Her day had started out completely normal. She was up at six, had her breakfast, got Rose up and ready. After she dropped Rose off at the Burrow and chatted with Molly and Ginny for a few minutes, she set off for work and got her usual coffee on the way. It was only the beginning of March, but the blustery winds had already made their arrival. Gretchen had been cheerful and perky as always, and her office looked and smelled as it always did. 

 

Then eight-thirty arrived. 

 

Gretchen knocked on her door. Hermione opened it to see Gretchen looking anxious. “What is it, Gretchen?” she asked, unsure whether she should be concerned for the younger girl. 

 

“Erm,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at something Hermione couldn’t see. “There’s a man here to see you--”

 

“Bloody hell,” Hermione mumbled, automatically thinking of her now ex-husband. 

 

“It’s not Ron,” Gretchen clarified, catching the look on Hermione’s face. “But erm, he says you might remember him.” 

 

Now thoroughly confused, Hermione asked, “What are you talking about?”

 

“He says he’s here about the financial manager position. You know, the ad you ran in the  _ Daily Prophet _ ?” she said. 

 

“Send him back,” Hermione said, returning to her desk now. As long as it wasn’t her ex-husband, she could care less who walked through that door. And if this person was here about a job, then it was strictly professional. “Please Gretchen, now. I’ve got a meeting with the Minister at ten.” 

 

“Of course, yes, sorry.” Gretchen gushed before disappearing from her doorway, closing the door behind her. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for whoever should come walking in her door. 

 

For the second time, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called, hating the slight tremble in her voice when she spoke. She couldn’t help her nervousness, though, not with everything else in her life going so wrong. The door opened with a creak, and she could hear footsteps behind her. Hermione turned around, the quill she was still holding slipped between her fingers and fell onto her desk. Platinum blonde hair, pointed face, gray eyes.  _ Malfoy.  _

Her eyes narrowed as she stood from her chair. But she faltered in her steps when she didn’t detect the usual pompous, arrogant, smug aura that surrounded him in his teen years. Draco stood in the doorway of her office; hands in pockets, nervousness written all over his face. It had been  _ years  _ since she’d seen him in person. She’d heard about Astoria, of course. It was all over the  _ Daily Prophet _ . The memory sobered her, and she forced herself to exhale the breath she was holding. Her shoulders fell, as did her guard. This was a widowed man standing in front of her, a man in need of a job. No, a father. A single father. 

 

“Hello, Malfoy.” she said civilly. “Please, sit.” She gestured at the chair in front of her desk. 

 

Draco did so without a word. He cleared his throat then said, “Hello, er--”

 

“Granger,” she finished for him, her tone clipped and her throat tight. 

 

“Right,” he said, running his hands over his thighs. “Thanks for seeing me.” 

 

The silence that fell between them was making her heart race and her palms sweat. She didn’t know it would be this awkward. But then again, what could either of them expected? She couldn’t even remember when exactly it was the last time she saw him. In person, anyway. Looking at him now, however, she could tell the recent stresses of his life were affecting him. There were lines forming around the corners of his mouth, creases were visible on his forehead. His hair looked lifeless and it was missing that typical perfectly combed and coiffed Malfoy look that she remembered him sporting. He looked tired, like he’d rather be curled up in a bed under the covers than in sitting in her office. 

 

“I’m here about the financial manager position,” he said, sounding more confident than he had a few minutes ago. His jaw was set, and it was then that she saw the familiar determined glint in his eyes. The same one he used to get when he was set on picking on Harry. “I just moved to London, so I don’t live far. My mother watches my son, which means I can be here as much as you need me to be. And as I’m sure you’ve at least heard, I used to run my father’s business.” He tossed a folder onto her desk then sat back in the chair. “My resume,” he said after a moment, when she had hesitated to pick it up. 

 

Hermione reminded herself to breathe again, picked up the folder and began to read over the contents. He definitely had the experience; he’d been running his father’s business for almost ten years. And he’d done well, according to these records. She felt her heart rate slow as she regained her sense of professionalism. “You just moved to London, you said?” she asked, slipping the papers back into the folder and sliding it across her desk.

 

Draco nodded. “I needed a...change.” he said, not quite meeting her gaze.  _ I understand.  _ She thought. Something tugged at her heart, but she shook her head and pushed away the feeling. She needed to focus. They were discussing business.  _ Her  _ business. 

 

“Well, you meet all of the credentials. I’ll only need to contact your references, and then I can send you owl notifying you whether or not you got the position.” she said. Draco nodded again, and tucked the folder back into his briefcase. 

 

“No questions, or anything?” he asked as they both stood to shake hands. She couldn’t help but notice they were cold and clammy, just like hers. She shook her head. He raised an eyebrow, and though her mouth was dry and she couldn’t explain why, she forced herself to give him a proper response. “Your resume was thorough. I don’t doubt you can handle this position, Malfoy.” When he looked slightly shocked and dropped his hand back down to his side, she spoke again. “ _ Should  _ I ask you questions?” 

 

“I--” he started, but groaned and ran his hands through his hair instead. “I didn’t know if you were concerned about my...past, or anything.” he said quickly. 

 

“Oh,” she said faintly, realizing that this hadn’t even come to her mind. “Well,” she said, gaining clarity now. “I don’t really need to, do I? Your records are clean, you always followed your check-ups with the Ministry, and if something had been going on with you I would have heard about it from R--” her breath hitched, “Ron. You ran with your father’s company for almost a decade, and ran it well, apparently.” Hermione nodded towards his briefcase, folding her arms across her chest. “So unless, you know of anything I should be concerned about, then no, I don’t have any questions about your past.” 

 

Draco said nothing, only shook his head. Hermione nodded once then stepped around her desk. He mirrored her movements and she showed him to her door. She grasped the handle and opened it for him. “If you do get the position, we’ll go over what exactly your position entails and I’ll explain more about what we do at the Foundation as well.” she said, shaking his hand one last time. “No more than four or five days, I expect.” 

 

“Thanks, Granger.” he said awkwardly, letting go of her hand and stepping out of her office with a final wave. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ March 2008 _

 

_ London _

 

“What  _ I  _ don’t understand is,” Pansy said, reaching for a napkin. “Why you’re getting a job when you have like two million galleons in your savings.” She stabbed at her roast and added a few vegetables to her bite. 

 

Scorpius was picking up pieces of his vegetables and trying to smush them with his hands. He had a glob of mashed potatoes on his forehead and his bib was already covered with half his dinner. Draco avoided the question for a moment, instead choosing to take a bite and chew it slowly. Pansy rolled her eyes and looked at Theo, silently asking for his help. Theo avoided her gaze however, and stuffed another bite of roast into his mouth. 

 

When he was done he said, “I just don’t want to be stuck inside all the time.” he said, exasperated. Lately it had felt like his friends had spent their time together questioning his decisions, and prodding into his business. 

 

“So that means you go and get a job for  _ Hermione Granger _ ?” Pansy said, letting her fork clatter against her plate, her voice an octave higher now. “With all of the possibilities out there, you went and--”

 

“ _ Pansy,”  _ Draco snapped, slapping his fist against the table. Every dish rattled, and Scorpius’s face was ridden with shock and terror. Guilt and regret flooded through his veins immediately. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and forced himself to calm down. He would not lose his temper in front of his son. And as he sat there, trying to regain self-control, he  _ swore  _ he could feel Astoria touching his arm lightly and saying his name.  _ Draco.  _ She did it every time he got too angry, always pulling him back. Always saving him from going too far, from fucking things up. 

 

“Leave the poor guy alone, would you?” Theo chimed in finally. “What’s it matter anyway? She looks good these days, plus I heard she and Weasley got divorced.” 

 

Draco scowled.  _ She’s divorced?  _ He thought, replaying his conversation with her earlier that day. But then, there was no reason for her to bring it up. It was a job interview, sort of. The only thing he could think of was when she had faltered saying Ron’s name.  _ Well that explains that,  _ he thought to himself. “What are you implying Theo?” he asked, feeling his anger rising again. “What do I care that Granger’s divorced--?”

 

“Nothing,” Theo said quickly. “Just you know...maybe down the line, when you feel ready…” 

 

_ Oh,  _ Draco thought.  _ Here we go again… _

 

He stood up so abruptly from the table that Pansy and Theo jumped, and Scorpius’s lip started to tremble. He kept his eyes focused on his son and willed his body to stop shaking. Draco scooped Scorpius into his arms and told him quietly that everything was okay. “I just need a minute to talk to Auntie Pansy and Uncle Theo, yeah?” he explained softly as he took Scorpius to his bedroom. “Can you be a big helper for me and play with your toys while I talk to them?” 

 

Scorpius nodded, somewhat fearfully and wandered over to his toy chest. Draco let out a small sigh, and felt his anger deflate as he watched his son peruse his toys. “Scorp,” he said. Scorpius turned around to look at his father. “I love you.” 

A wide, somewhat toothy smile spread over his son’s face. His eyes light up and he let out a soft giggle. “Love you too, daddy.” he said, getting the words out slowly. Draco smiled and shut the door until it was almost closed. He walked down the hall, then stopped halfway and leaned against the wall.  _ You can talk about this calmly,  _ he told himself, gathering his bearings. His self-control. 

 

When Draco re-entered the kitchen, he found Pansy and Theo whispering, heads bent together. And that was when Draco lost it. “Discussing the next thing about my life you want to criticize?” he snapped, standing behind them. Both friends jumped and turned around in their seats. Theo’s cheeks looked flushed, but Pansy kept her face hard as stone. “Stop jumping down our throats, Draco!” she shot back, not daring to raise her voice too high. She knew the rules when around Scorpius. 

 

“Well stop picking and poking at every decision I make! The first time I mentioned moving to London, the both of you gave me shit about it for weeks! When I sold my dad’s company, you looked at me like I’d gone mad. And now--this job, you’ve managed to find something wrong with that too.” he ranted, his chest heaving and the temperature in his body rising. Weeks and weeks of pent up anger were bubbling to the surface.  _ Why  _ did he always do this? He kept quiet, and pushed down his emotions until eventually...boom. He was like a ticking time bomb these days. “I get enough of it from my mother. The last thing I wanted was to get it from you two!” 

 

Neither of them said a word when he’d finished. Theo looked deep in thought, his brows slightly furrowed. Pansy, however, was staring at him with narrowed eyes, lips pressed tightly together and her hands gripped the back of the chair so hard her knuckles had gone white. “Theo, get the mead I brought in my bag, please. And three glasses.” 

 

“Do you really think alcohol--”

 

“Theo,  _ please.  _ Just do it.” she snapped, turning her head to him. 

 

“Don’t think you can boss me around, Pansy.” he warned, getting up to do as she had asked. “I  _ choose  _ to oblige by your demands.” Draco saw him sneer at Pansy behind her back, and he couldn’t help but let a glimmer of a smile appear on his lips. When Theo had retrieved the mead and glasses and they were all sat with a glass in front of them, Pansy finally spoke. Draco was taken aback by how calm her tone was. “Draco, I don’t know if it’s crossed your mind that your friends are only concerned for you. Your wife just died sixth months ago, and you have a two year old son--”

 

“ _ Obviously, _ ” Draco sneered, running his thumb along the brim of his glass. 

 

Pansy huffed. “Do not interrupt me, Draco. It’s rude. My point is, we just get concerned that you’re not thinking things through, or making the right decisions.” When he glared at her, ready to snap again, Theo stepped in. 

“What Pansy is trying to say,” he said, looking between the two of them. “Is that we can’t be inside your head, mate. And usually when after a loved one passes...I don’t know, people aren’t always thinking right. I mean, the death itself takes a while to process so...you making these big decisions like selling your dad’s company and moving to London...we just wanted to make sure that you were sure about it, that you had thought everything through. That’s all, mate.” 

 

“And maybe we did come on a bit strong,” Pansy admitted quietly. “You’re our best friend, Draco. We love you. These decisions just seemed rash and sudden. And you telling us that you applied for a job with Granger as your boss, just seemed...well, not like you.” 

 

Draco forced himself to take several deep breaths. Deep down, he knew they were right. He knew they had his best interests at heart, but everything seemed so goddamn suffocating these days. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think it seemed mad to you. It made perfect sense to me.” 

 

No one said anything. They merely sat and sipped their mead. Until Theo’s comment before he’d taken Scorpius to his bedroom came back to him. “Let’s get one thing straight, though.” he said, leaning forward and looking directly at Theo. “I have no interest in dating right now. And when I do decide to date again, it will not be with my  _ boss.  _ I don’t care if she’s divorced, and attractive--”

 

“Seriously Theo, if that’s your only criteria for a woman…” Pansy chimed in disapprovingly before swallowing half her glass in one gulp. 

 

“It--I--that’s not even why I said,” Theo said, trying to gather his bearings as his cheeks flushed pink. “I merely meant--that is  _ not  _ my only criteria for a woman!” 

 

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Draco said loudly, drawing them back to the matter at hand. He sighed again. Pansy and Theo fell into silence, waiting for him to speak. “You both know I love you, but I am capable of making rational decisions. I appreciate the concern,” he said slowly, choosing his words wisely so they could end this once and for all. “I just need you guys to lighten a bit. All right? Trust me, please. I haven’t lost my mind...Scorpius is doing just fine, isn’t he? He’s alive and happy!” 

 

And before he could stop them, there were tears streaking down his cheeks; hot, wet and thick as he gasped for his breath of air, choking on his sob. His face was hot and he was so...heartbroken. All he could feel was pain; coursing through his veins, in his bones, pumping in and out of his heart. “I’m  _ trying, _ ” he managed to ground out, looking down at his lap. “I’m trying to do what seems right...what’s going to make us happy.” 

 

Pansy had come over to him and sat down beside him, putting her arm around his shoulders. He allowed himself to lean against her, resting his head on her shoulder. “You’re a great dad, mate.” Theo said quietly. “Scorpius is happy. But you don’t have to do this all on your own. Your mum watches Scorp for you and that’s fine, but let Pansy and I help too. We’ll lighten up, if you promise to hear us out the first time we question one of your decisions.” 

 

Draco nodded, not wanting to look at either of them yet. Pansy didn’t have to instruct Theo to clean up the glasses, instead he got up and started tidying up the kitchen. She didn’t say anything to Draco as they sat there. She merely ran her fingers through his hair, like she used to do when they were younger, and let his sobs die down on their own. Theo replaced his glass of mead with a cup of tea, and asked Draco if he wanted them to stay. “No, it’s all right.” he said hoarsely. “I should get Scorpius ready for bed. How does meeting for lunch tomorrow sound? Scorp would like that.” 

 

“That sounds great, mate. Owl us in the morning, yeah?” He nodded and stood to say goodbye to his friends. As soon as the door had shut, he gulped down his tea and headed for the bathroom to freshen up before facing his two year old son and their empty flat. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ March 2008 _

 

_ Grimmauld Place _

 

“Sorry, Malfoy?” Ginny said, looking at Hermione with wide eyes as she leaned forward to see past Harry. “You’re thinking of hiring Malfoy?” 

 

Hermione shrugged, picking at her vegetable lo mein. “He’s a good fit for the job,” she said simply. She hadn’t owled Draco yet; she was still waiting for one of his references to return her owl, but it was pretty much a done deal. Draco Malfoy, after closer inspection into his past after their meeting earlier that week, had lived a quiet, and respectable life after the war. He served his consequences that were handed to him at his trial, dated and later married Astoria. He ran his father’s company, and otherwise kept his nose down. Scorpius was born just two years ago and well, she knew where he was now. Thinking about it now, she was kind of eager to give him the job. She knew he was going to do well, that he would help her business succeed. “Enough about work though, please,” she said. “I’ve had enough of it for today.” 

 

“We could talk about McGonagall wanting to have a memorial for the ten year anniversary of the war,” Harry said abruptly, perking up suddenly. Ginny nearly choked on her water, and Harry rushed to her aide. Hermione had stopped mid-bite and let her fork fall down to her plate. 

 

“I can’t believe it’s been almost ten years,” she said faintly, recalling the events of that night like she was seeing it for the first time. 

 

* * *

 

_ “It’s over now, Hermione.” Ron said quietly beside her. They were sitting at the edge of the lake; its grounds not receiving any damage. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, gripping it more tightly in his hold. “We’re--we’re all safe now.”  _

_ She nodded, knowing that he was thinking of Fred, who was certainly safe but no longer alive. “It’s over now,” she repeated, sighing as a breeze ruffled over the grounds, pushing her hair away from her face. Her bones ached, she craved sleep, but she knew it wouldn’t come to her. She could still hear the screams in her head, could still see bodies falling and spells flying around her in every direction. She wondered then if they would ever fade.  _

 

_ “Hermione,” Ron said, bumping his shoulder against hers to gain her attention. She turned to look at him, and saw an array of emotions flash across his features. He opened his mouth, closed it, pondered for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.” He looked down at their hands.  _

 

_ “Don’t apologize,” she said quickly, drawing in a sharp breath as she spoke. “It’s not as if I was ready before either…We have each other now, though. I think that’s that what matters.”  _

 

* * *

 

“I guess I shouldn’t be terribly surprised,” Ginny said dryly after she’d recovered from her choking incident. Hermione hummed in agreement, and returned to her barely touched dinner. “Nothing has been done since the one year anniversary.” 

 

Harry was quiet as well, pushing his food around on his plate. She knew he had probably retreated into his own private memories of the war, and her heart went out to him. They had all seen horrors that night, but Harry had faced the greatest of them all. “Ten years,” he muttered after a moment of silence filled with nothing but the sound of cutlery scraping against their plates. “Merlin’s beard.” 

 

_ Merlin’s beard is right,  _ she thought to herself, wondering how Earth so much time had already passed. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ March 2008 _

 

_ London _

 

Draco straightened his tie one more time and examined himself in the mirror. Teeth brushed, hair combed and coiffed, not a blemish in his appearance.  _ I can do this,  _ he told himself firmly as he left his bedroom with his briefcase in hand. He’d already dropped Scorpius off at his mother’s earlier this morning, wanting to give himself plenty of undisturbed time to get ready for his first day of work.

 

The owl had come two days ago, telling him he’d gotten the job. He’d been ecstatic at first; he had a reason to get out of the house five days a week. He had something that would keep him occupied. The last seven months had been hell; running his father’s business didn’t always require leaving the house. More often than not, he was able to work from home. But he couldn’t do it anymore; he had to get out of the house. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, Draco headed out the door, briefcase in hand and scarf wrapped tight around his neck to battle the March winds. 

 

He’d been pleased to initially discover that his new flat wasn’t far from  _ A Better Place Foundation _ , and he made a mental note for the future that he’d be able to bring Scorpius to his mum’s a bit later in the morning. He was at the front door within five minutes, legs shaking slightly and his stomach churning.  _ Good thing I didn’t eat breakfast,  _ he thought bitterly as he stepped into the reception area. Gretchen was sitting behind her desk, head bent down over documents. 

 

Draco had just reached the desk, ready to announce his arrival when the door to Hermione’s office opened. Theo’s comment from the other night popped into his mind.  _ She looks good these days.  _ Draco shook his head, pushing the comment from his mind and stuck out his hand for her to shake when she drew closer. Her hair was twisted back away from her face, with loose strands falling around her ears. Her suit jacket looked crisp and pressed, not a thread out of place. And he couldn’t tell in the slightest that she’d carried one child. 

 

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. He was surprised by her strong grip, but then again, he wasn’t. He knew the witch standing in front of him, knew her well enough to know she was a force to be reckoned with. 

 

“Ms. Granger,” he said, nodding his head and letting go of her hand. 

 

She forced a smile then said, “A tour of the place before you start, I think. Then I’ll show you to your office.” 

 

He nodded, adjusting his tie as he did so. “A tour sounds great.” 

  
  



	3. the first favors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here's the third chapter; it's been finished for a bit, however my beta is preoccupied atm so I'll upload this for now and once she betas it, I'll update it with the edited version! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy; let me know what you think!

**Hermione**

 

_ March, 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation, London _

 

“Good morning, Gretchen.” Hermione said briskly as she stepped into the warmth of  _ A Better Place.  _ The receptionist smiled back at her, but Hermione didn’t miss the tightness in her lips, the tension in her body. She frowned, recognizing something was bothering the younger witch. A hundred issues came to mind immediately, sending her into a mild state of alarm. “What is it?” she asked, taking the memos Gretchen handed her. 

 

“Well, it’s just--” Gretchen leaned forward, closer to Hermione. “Today is his day  _ off _ , correct? Why is he here?” 

 

Hermione’s brows furrowed as she fought to mentally catch up; realizing there was no true emergency, her heart had started to slow. Her eyes followed Gretchen’s gaze towards Draco’s office door. His name shone in glossy letters on the plaque; something she had gotten for him as a ‘Congratulations’ gift on his first day. Her eyes darted to the calendar on the reception desk; it was  _ definitely  _ Thursday. “That is odd,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Gretchen. 

 

Leaving Gretchen in her state of confusion, Hermione wandered over to his office door. She rapped her knuckles sharply against the dark oak, and waited. Muffled footsteps sounded from inside his office, followed by what she  _ thought  _ sounded like an exasperated sigh. The door opened quickly to reveal a slightly annoyed looking Draco. He stared at her with a bored expression, still grasping the doorknob. 

 

“It’s Thursday,” she said. 

 

“Yes,” Draco answered, cocking his head to the side and narrowing his eyes at her. “Is that supposed to mean something?” 

 

When she didn’t answer right away, but instead gave him a stern look and crossed her arms over her chest, he stepped aside and let her into his office. Draco shut the door, then went back to his desk. Hermione stayed silent until he’d settled in, ready to get back to work. 

 

“It’s your day off,” she said, sitting herself down in the chair in front of his desk. “Not that I don’t appreciate you coming in, that is if you have work to do, but--” she bit her lip, pondering if the question was inappropriate, too personal. “Why? I mean couldn’t you be home with your--” 

 

“You haven’t had a financial manager since you founded this sanctuary, Granger.” he replied, his tone clipped. “And while you’ve managed to do well on your own, I still have a lot of work to catch up on.” 

Hermione found herself slightly taken aback, both by his tone and his response. She leaned forward, crossing one leg over the other, took a breath and said, “I appreciate your desire to complete your work, but do mind your tone when speaking to your boss.” 

 

Draco paused in his writing, his eyes glued to the parchment for a moment. She watched his jaw clench, his eyes shut and his grip tighten on the quill. He muttered something under his breath, then finally met her gaze. She felt her jaw go slightly slack at the sadness evident in his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had...an authority figure to respond to.” 

 

“Apology accepted,” she said coolly, leaning back now. The tension between them dissipated as he once again returned to the documents in front of him. All that could be heard was the scratching of his quill. Hermione looked out the magically enchanted window to see rain slashing down against the panes, and she silently thanked Merlin that she had made it to work before it started. “So, erm, tough week?” 

 

He paused again, but composed himself quickly and continued on with his work. “I suppose.” 

 

Hermione didn’t ask him anymore questions. She always hated when her employees tried to pry too much into her personal life; she wasn’t going to subject Malfoy to the same behavior. Hermione sat with both arms on the armrests, one leg still crossed over the other, and looked around his office. He didn’t object to her presence as she took in the minimal decoration. On his desk sat two frames, both facing away from her. His coat hung on the hook on the back of his door, and another framed picture hung on the wall opposite windows. She let out an inaudible gasp when she saw the picture of the three Malfoys. She wasn’t surprised to see a picture of his family in his office, she was surprised to see that it wasn’t some prim and proper family portrait. The black and white photograph showed Astoria laying on a blanket in the grass with little Scorpius laying on his stomach beside her. Hermione watched as Astoria looked up at the camera, laughing, her eyes crinkled and her head tipped back. 

 

“I was sorry to hear of her passing,” Hermione said quietly, still staring at the photograph on the wall. The scratching of Draco’s quill stopped. “She was a kind woman.” 

 

“Thank you,” he murmured, not lifting his head to look at her. 

 

Hermione nodded. She and Astoria had only spoken a handful of times, but it had been at least a year since they’d come across one another. Even if Hermione wanted to, she couldn’t find one bad thing to say about Astoria. Draco continued to ignore her, and with her own pile of work waiting for her in her office, she decided it was best if she leave now. Hermione reached the door before she stopped. “As much as I would like to pay you for today Malfoy, I do have a payroll to stick to and since it is your day off…”

 

“It’s fine,” Draco replied, not seeming to care in the slightest he’d be spending a day doing work for free. 

“Really?” she said, one hand on the doorknob as she whipped her head around in surprise. 

 

She saw him shrug his shoulders as he picked up the next document. “I have your books in front of me, I know what you can and can’t afford.” 

 

“Right,” she said. Slightly stunned by his nonchalance, Hermione left his office and shut the door quietly behind her. Gretchen’s eyes were on her as she crossed the hall to her own office, and she shot a stern look at the younger woman before entering her office for the first time that morning. 

 

With the door shut behind her, Hermione sat down at her desk, not sparing a single glance at the rolls of parchment and documents piled onto her desk. She let out a long, deep breath, as if she hadn’t had the chance to do so all morning. Which, in retrospect, she kind of  _ didn’t.  _

 

The previous evening, she’d gone to Ron’s new flat to drop Rose off. It wasn’t her first time stopping by; in fact, in the previous weeks, Ron had invited her in for tea. She knew he was doing it to be polite, courteous; after all they did have a daughter together. This week, however, she was greeted by someone was most definitely  _ not  _ Ron. A tall, blonde woman had answered the door, looking displeased at Hermione’s presence. Hermione had merely scowled at the woman and pushed past her into her ex-husband’s flat with Rose on her hip. 

 

“Our  _ daughter  _ is staying with you for the next three days,” she hissed when Ron had finally entered the living room and outstretched his arms towards their squirming daughter. “I want  _ her  _ gone while Rose is here.” 

 

Her request had led to an argument that had ended with Hermione storming out in tears. It was ridiculous, she knew, crying over the ex-husband she didn’t even want to be married to. But the sight of another woman in Ron’s flat had shocked her to say the least. They’d only been divorced a few weeks and already...She hadn’t been able to think about it too much. Once back at her flat, completely alone, she allowed herself to have a small cry before turning in for a hot shower and her bed. 

 

When she’d woken this morning, she’d almost forgotten about the events of the previous night. The moment she sat up, however, her argument with Ron and the blonde woman came rushing to the forefront of her mind. Since then it’d felt like she was suffocating. Fast forward to when she’d first arrived at work this morning to find that one of her employees was here on his day off, throwing her for another loop, and now here she was. Hurt, and confused. 

 

Forcing the unpleasant thoughts from her mind, Hermione looked down at her desk and scanned the work that awaited her.  _ Time to get started… _

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ March, 2008 _

_ A Better Place Foundation, London _

 

He’d been impressed with what Granger had managed to establish in three years. From the outside,  _ A Better Place  _ looked like any other town home in the streets of London. Inside, however, it looked almost like a hotel. There was the reception area just inside the doors, followed by a hallway with at least a dozen doors between both sides. Hermione’s office, as well as his, were on this floor. The other doors housed public bathrooms, conference rooms, storage closets, a recreation room for the residents, two rooms reserved for job training, and the rest were left empty for what she hoped to turn into classrooms. The upper floors housed the residents; werewolves, orphans, and squibs mostly. He learned there were a few muggle-borns staying at  _ A Better Place  _ as well, as they had lost everything during the war. 

 

On each floor, there was a common room, a study and quiet areas. Residents live there on a pay-what-you-can system and he’d learned that fundraisers were held five times throughout the year to help raise money for expenses. And as of this past November, there were donation boxes  _ everywhere  _ for  _ A Better Place _ . 

 

“We’ve really started to take off since then,” she’d said that first day.  “Didn’t really have many residents at first, and I’ve poured a good chunk of the gold I received from the Ministry after the war into this place. The fundraisers help, but I say the donation boxes are what really does it.” 

 

“Hmm,” he’d replied, examining the decor that hung in the halls. 

 

The place was impressive, and the job was all right. It was essentially everything he’d been doing with his father’s company for the past eight years. When he’d first started, he thought he’d found the answer. He had a job to keep him busy, get out him out of the house and something to occupy his mind for eight hours a day, five days a week. But as his third week came to an end, he found himself still feeling dissatisfied. He still laid awake at night, his head filled with fleeting moments of his best times with Astoria. He still studied Scorpius while they ate, picking out the same features over and over again that belonged to his late wife. 

 

* * *

 

_ July, 2003 _

 

_ Barcelona, Spain _

 

_ “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?” Astoria asked sweetly, kissing his cheek and resting her head against his shoulder.  _

 

_ They stared out at the sunset, slowly sinking into the horizon. It’s reflection in the ocean rippled with every calm wave. Draco pulled her closer to him, one arm around her waist. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt this calm, content. But then again, five years ago, he didn’t expect to be happily married to a wonderful woman with their own home and his future bright.  _

 

_ He chuckled at her question. “Just yesterday, I believe.”  _

 

_ “Well I mean it,” she said seriously. A breeze ruffled over them, sending him a whiff of her lavender shampoo. “Every time I say it, I mean it. I’m proud of you, Draco. Proud of the man you’ve become.”  _

 

_ “The credit all goes to you, you know.” he said quietly after not answering her for a moment.  _

 

_ Astoria shook her head, pulling away from him. He felt her hands come up to his face, turning his head to look at her. She was staring at him fiercely, her brown eyes piercing his. There was a hardness in her features he’d never seen before. “No, Draco,” she murmured, their faces only inches apart. He heard a wave crash onto shore in the background. He could feel the sun fading from the sky. “ _ You  _ made all of those choices, to be someone better. You worked hard to be who you’ve become.”  _

 

_ “Maybe,” he said, unable to deny this truth. “But I wouldn’t have wanted to do any of that without you.”  _

 

* * *

 

It was during his lunch hour that he went and sought her out. Her office door was shut, yet Gretchen had said she was definitely in there. “She eats her lunch in there,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. “Or she says she does, anyway. She probably works straight through.” 

 

“Right,” he said, before knocking on her door. For a few seconds, he heard silence. Perhaps Gretchen had been wrong, then. But just as he was about to try again, the door swung open and a slightly frazzled Hermione stood in front of him. 

 

“Yes?” she said irritably, a sigh following her unpleasant greeting. 

 

“Erm,” Draco started, unsure how to phrase his request. “Do you have a moment?” 

 

He saw the annoyance leave her features, as if it’d never been there at all. Hermione cocked her head, one hand on her hip. She studied him for a moment, then stepped aside. “Thanks,” he said as he stepped into her office and she shut the door behind him. 

 

Hermione sat down behind her desk again, and it was then that he saw a bowl of salad sitting on the edge of her desk. It looked untouched. Gretchen’s words echoed in his head. Draco shook his head and stepped around to the front of her desk, sitting down in the chair as she had done yesterday. He waited patiently while Hermione scribbled on the roll of parchment in front of her. When she was finished, she looked at him expectantly. Draco sucked in a breath, and recited the speech he’d been formulating in his head for the past hour and a half. 

 

“So,” he said, unable to comprehend why the hell he felt so nervous right now. He certainly respected the fact that Hermione was now his boss, but that didn’t  _ intimidate  _ him. But the look she was giving him made his stomach churn and his heart speed up. It was like she could communicate without even opening her mouth.  _ Get on with it,  _ she was saying. “I do appreciate you giving me this job--”

 

“Are you quitting?” she asked sharply, leaning forward in her chair and glaring at him accusingly. 

 

“What? No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Why would I--Look, just let me finish. Please,” he added upon seeing the look on her face. Respecting an authority figure was going to take some getting used to; it’d only been a decade since he’d had anyone to answer to in this sort of manner. 

 

Hermione fell silent and sat back in her chair, waiting once again for him to speak. Draco drew in a breath and said, “I just--I want to keep busy,” he admitted, hating himself for it. “Is there anything else,” he sighed, running his hands over his face. “I don’t know, is there anything else you, er, need done or assistance with?” 

 

“You want  _ more  _ work?” she asked, saying each word slowly and carefully. Draco nodded, slightly afraid of the answer he was going to receive. Would she laugh? Would she think he was mad? Why did he even care? 

 

Hermione exhaled slowly, eyes wide as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over chest. She looked lost for a moment. “Erm,” she said, gnawing on her lip. “Well we do need fresh ideas for fundraisers this year. We had one in January, but it didn’t turn out as well as I had hoped.” She frowned, now tapping her chin as she thought. “Right,” she said, “How about this? Your title is still financial manager. I’m adding to your duties, however. You are now in charge of picking our fundraisers. You know what people will be willing to spend their money on. Next is collecting the donation boxes once a month, preferably the beginning of the month.”

 

Draco nodded along, taking in her every word as she explained his new responsibilities. “That will start in April, as I’ve already collected the donations at the start of the this month.” 

 

“Right,” he said. “Anything else?” If he were honest, he was hoping for more. The fundraisers might take up a good portion of his time, but there was weeks between each of them, and collecting donation boxes once a month wasn’t very time consuming. 

 

She frowned, tapping her chin some more. “Well, there is one more thing.” 

 

“What is it?” he asked, hating how desperate he sounded. 

 

“How are your potion brewing skills these days?” she asked, eyeing him hopefully. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ March, 2008 _

 

_ London  _

 

It was the first time she was having Harry and Ginny over to her new flat. They’d been unable to help her move in, which was fine as her parents had volunteered, but they were due for their first visit any minute. Rose sat in the middle of the living room floor, a book in her lap as she pretended to read. Ron hadn’t spoken a word to her when he’d dropped Rose off that morning, and she was fine with that. After their argument the other night, and the knowledge that he was already seeing someone, she had no desire to speak to her ex-husband. 

 

Yet at the same time, she hated it. She hated that she was angry with him, that she’d been hurt by him even after their marriage was over. Ron was one of her first friends, ever. They had been through so much, spent more than half their lives together. He had been one of her best friends. 

 

True, neither one of them were perfect. They’d both made their mistakes, said things they didn’t mean, but did that mean it all had to end like this? But what really stung the most, was that Ron, the boy and man whom she had loved, was able to move on so quickly. She was nowhere near ready to return to the dating scene. Yes, she knew everyone was different and that some healed quicker than others, but a month seemed awfully short, especially considering they’d been married for eight years and together for almost ten. 

 

A knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. Ginny was far too pregnant now to travel by any magical means, and so they had to walk from their place to hers. Hermione opened the door, forcing her lips into a smile, and greeted her two best friends. Harry handed her a bottle of mead. “Since we never got to give you a housewarming gift,” he said with a sheepish smile. 

 

She kissed him on the cheek. “Oh please,” she said, stepping back so they could come in and take off their shoes and jackets. “The only person who’d be drinking it is me. It’s not a big deal, is it?” 

 

Harry helped Ginny out of her coat and shoes, and then over to the couch so he could prop her feet up on a pillow. Hermione hustled in the kitchen to fix them all tea, and came out ten minutes later with three steaming mugs on a tray. She walked into the living room to find Ginny lying with her on the armrest, eyes closed, and Harry making confetti fly out the end of his wand, sending Rose into fits of giggles. “Tea’s here,” she announced. 

 

Harry tucked away his wand, and accepted two mugs before handing one to his wife. Ginny had already sat up the best she could, and held her tea close. 

 

“No James and Albus?” Hermione commented, raising her eyebrows at the other two. She sat down in the armchair, as they were currently occupying her couch. 

 

“Mum’s got them,” Ginny said, wincing and placing a hand on her stomach. “Merlin, this girl is going to give me trouble.”

 

“She keeps kicking,” Harry explained with an affectionate smile at his wife’s protruding stomach. “Never really seems to stop, does she love?” 

 

Ginny glared at Harry murderously, but didn’t dare try to move. The redhead turned her attention back to Hermione. “I’ve just been so uncomfortable lately, it’s making me positively awful to be around. My mum offered and I couldn’t refuse.” She yelped and nearly spilled her tea when their unborn daughter gave another kick. “Why in Merlin’s name is she choosing to be so difficult…” Ginny grumbled, looking down at her large stomach.

 

“So,” Harry said loudly, a smile still on his face. “Tell us, how is it working with Malfoy? How’ve you been since...the other night?” 

 

Hermione set her mug gingerly on the table next to her chair and stole a few seconds to watch Rose play on the floor at Harry’s feet. Her daughter’s brown hair was starting to mirror her own hair at that age, and it was one of those moments where Hermione found herself grateful that Rose hadn’t adopted her father’s hair color. She winced at the mental image of a little Rose with vibrant red hair. 

 

“All right, I suppose.” she said, toying with the hem of her sweater. “Working with Malfoy is fine, actually. Better than I expected.” 

 

Both Harry and Ginny eyes widened with surprise. “Really?” they asked in unison. 

 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile, despite the sadness that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Sitting here with Harry and Ginny, discussing their lives, she couldn’t help but picture Ron here with them. He’d sit on the arm of the chair with his arm around the back and she’d scoot into him, resting her head on his chest, a hand on his thigh. And before that, the four of them sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, or laying out in the field by the Burrow. They’d spent so much time together and now…

 

“He came to me on Friday actually,” she said, remembering the events of that day. “Asked me for more responsibilities.” 

 

“What did you say?” Ginny asked with increased interest. Harry sat beside her, now formulating his own theories on this piece of information. 

 

She shrugged, taking another sip of her tea. “I gave him more responsibilities,” she said matter-of-factly before getting up to retrieve her stash of take-out menus. 

 

As she retreated into the kitchen in search for the menus, she heard Harry and Ginny whispering to one another. Most likely, she knew, they were discussing her. Since her divorce with Ron, it was almost like Harry and Ginny had taken her on as a fourth child. Harry wrote to her more in this past month than he ever did over the summers when they were younger. Ginny had asked her to spend the day together the past three Saturdays and would shoot worried looks at her when she thought Hermione wasn’t looking. 

 

Hermione told herself to ignore them, that they could talk all they wanted but she knew she was fine. The menus were stuffed near the back of the drawer she’d dedicated to junk, which she had been meaning to organize since last week. As she walked back to the living room, Hermione heard their whispers subside  and noticed that Harry scooted a few inches away from his wife. 

 

“Your pick Ginny,” she said casually, handing the menus to her friend. Being the pregnant one, her food choice was limited. So whenever they wanted to order out, Ginny included, she got to pick the place. 

 

Harry cleared his throat and slid off the couch to sit with Rose on the floor. She handed him the book she’d been pretending to read and looked up at him expectantly. “Pwease?” she asked. 

 

Harry took the book from her and pulled her into his lap. Rose settled with ease, and leaned her head back onto Harry’s chest. Hermione watched in silence, keeping her thoughts to herself and her tears at bay. She would not cry. Not now. She would not let Harry and Ginny see that she was anything less than fine. She wouldn’t let her daughter see her upset. 

 

* * *

 

After Harry and Ginny left that evening, Hermione relished in being alone again. She gave Rose a bath, put her in her pajamas and let her pick out a book to read before bed. Within minutes, Rose had drifted off to sleep in her lap. It’d been a big day for her little girl; after getting back from visiting her father’s and receiving a visit from her aunt and uncle, she was bound to be exhausted. 

 

It wasn’t until half an hour later, after she had showered and changed into her own pajamas before slipping beneath the covers, that she let her mask break. All through dinner she had managed to keep her composure. She wore a smile, laughed when it was appropriate and asked Harry more about the memorial McGonagall was planning. But now she was all alone; just her and her thoughts. 

 

Lately she’d been wondering if this what she really wanted. If she was missing him, upset that he was seeing someone else, wanted him there for those little moments with their daughter, didn’t that mean she still loved him? Or was she merely mourning the loss of a long-time friend? Either way, her emotions were taking her for a spin lately. And to top it all off, when Rose had arrived home this morning, she’d asked Hermione why her daddy didn’t live with them anymore. 

 

She practically choked on the first sob that managed to escape her throat, but after that she succumbed and let the tears fall. Hermione rolled onto her side, buried her face into her pillow and curled her fingers into the cotton sheets.  She didn’t know  _ what  _ to think or feel anymore, 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ March, 2008 _

 

_ The Morning Brew, London _

 

The tiny coffee shop was bustling at seven thirty in the morning, which is why he always got here with plenty of time to spare to get to work. There were seven people in line already, and the ten tables were completely filled. A small huddle of people stood off to the side waiting for their orders and the scent of brewing coffee filled the air. 

 

It was the last person in line that caught his attention, however. It was impossible to miss her bushy hair. Already knowing what he would order, Draco stepped in line behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. 

 

It’d been somewhat of a surprise to him when he realized he didn’t mind working for and with Granger. She kept to herself, smiled at him whenever she saw him and yet she still held a firm hand around the place. She was respected. Since their agreement about his work duties, he started to get the sense that  _ maybe  _ she understood him. She hadn’t questioned his desire for more work too much, leading him to think that maybe she did the same. Her desk did always seem to be awfully cluttered. He didn’t know what was making him hold onto that, but it was too late now. He had reached out. 

 

“Malfoy,” she said in surprise when she whipped her head around. “I didn’t know you came here.” 

 

Draco took in her appearance; the unkempt state of her hair that she normally pinned up, the creases and wrinkles in her suit jacket, and--when he happened to look down at the floor--he saw she was wearing two different colored high heels. He would have laughed, if weren’t for the fact that he had similar experiences to this in the past few months. It happened not long after Astoria had passed away. Draco had told himself he was going to get out of the house that day, pick up some things at the market. He’d made it halfway down the path leading from their Manor when he looked down and saw he’d forgotten his pants. 

 

“Yeah,” he said, realizing that he stayed silent too long, lingered too long perhaps. “I discovered it the other week. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to--it’s just that...you’re wearing two different shoes.” he finished lamely as he felt heat rush to his cheeks. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want her to think he was trying to embarrass her, because he wasn’t. 

 

She looked down in horror, her face draining of color. “Shit.”

 

The line moved up by one as another stepped aside to wait for their order. He watched her think, weighing her options, her teeth gripping her bottom lip. Examining her features more closely now, he could see how exhausted she looked. Her skin looked dull and there were dark rings under her eyes. Something was tugging on his heart as she stood there having an internal debate. 

 

Draco sighed, rubbed a hand through his hair and opened his mouth to speak. “If you, er, tell me what you want I could get order for you. While you run home and find your shoes,” he offered. 

 

She studied him for a moment, seemingly stunned by his offer. Then slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Large hazelnut, cream, no sugar. Please.” She handed him enough change to cover her coffee, thanked him and hurried around to him to rush out the door. 

 

Draco mumbled, “You’re welcome,” as she pushed open the door and turned left. The same direction he had come from. 

 

* * *

 

He waited another seven minutes before the five people in front of him had stepped to the side, leaving him standing at the counter at last. He ordered their coffees, added his own money to the change Granger had given him for hers, and followed the rest of the crowd to wait. 

 

Another five minutes, and he had two coffees in hand. The small crowd had disappeared, and some of the tables had emptied. Draco glanced down at his watch, they had just under fifteen minutes until they were due at work. The scent of hazelnut from Granger’s coffee was hitting him full blast in the face; he couldn’t escape it if he wanted to.  _ It is a bit comforting,  _ he thought privately as he decided to wait out on the street for her 

 

Dark clouds hung low in the sky, thick rain threatening to pour down any second. Draco groaned, and hoped that Granger would hurry up. Other people on their way to work maneuvered around him, talking on their mobile phones (he’d learned a fair bit about muggle culture over the years), or  hurrying along in a rush. Some people held coffees similar to the two in his hand, while others jostled on empty handed. 

 

“Malfoy!” he heard a female voice shout, though it’s source was nowhere in sight. Then he heard it again, louder this time. “Malfoy!” 

 

Draco walked towards the voice the best he could, and after skirting a man wearing dark sunglasses (which Draco found rather odd, as the sun wasn’t in sight) he came face to face with Hermione, who looked out of breath. 

 

Her face lit up as he handed her her coffee, and he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth tugging upwards just a smidge at the sight. 

 

“Thanks,” she said after taking her first sip. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

 

Draco looked down at her feet, remembering why he’d even offered in the first place, and saw that she had on two plain black closed-toed high heels now. “See you’ve got matching shoes now,” he commented, pointing down at her feet. 

 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling again as they started walking towards  _ A Better Place.  _ “Finding the matching shoe was quicker than moving through this lot,” she spread her arms at the mass of people walking all around them. 

 

An inaudible chuckle escaped his lips. As they walked, they made small talk. It was their first conversation in the near month since he started working for Granger that didn’t revolve around work, save the conversation she’d tried to have on his day off a few weeks back. And he found that he didn’t mind being in her presence at all. She told him about the memorial McGonagall wanted to have, and she told him stories about James, Albus and Rose. Draco didn’t talk much; he asked questions about the memorial, and laughed appropriately while she told him stories, but other than that he remained quiet. He was content listening to her, sipping his coffee and walking among the crowd of people. They were just a few doors down from  _ A Better Place _ when he realized this was one of the few times in the past seven months that he felt content. 

 

Hermione opened the door for him and insisted he walk through first. She thanked him again, smiling just as widely as when he’d first handed her the coffee, before heading for her office. Draco waited until her office door was shut to go to his own office. His stomach felt odd, his lips wanted nothing more than to smile again, and he had no idea what to make of that. 

  
  



	4. familiar pain too soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a few months since the last update. this fic got put on the backburner as life got a little hectic and it was hard to get back into the groove of this fic. but it's here, finally (and just a bit longer than the previous 3 chapters)! hopefully it was worth the wait!

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation, London _

 

Ever since that rainy, March morning when he’d ordered Granger’s coffee for her, he’d found himself doing other little favors for her here and there. Mostly they were work related; picking up orders of toiletries, or other supplies for the foundation, dropping off forms that were due within in the hour. Sometimes, if he got to the coffee shop before her, he would order her coffee and have it waiting for when she arrived just minutes later. She never arrived any later than twenty to eight, and she probably could have just ordered her own coffee, but he figured if he was there, why not? 

 

Most days when he did this she would shove her change at him, and at first, he took it, politely stuffing it into his pocket with a “Thank you.” But as the weeks had started to go on, and March slipped into April, he found himself flat out refusing some mornings. Not all, but some. He knew he could get away with this when she’d argue that he should take it. 

 

“I do sometimes,” he would say with ease, fighting to hide the smirk that was longing to escape. “It’s not a big deal.” 

 

She would always purse her lips and mumble words he could never understand, but she wouldn’t bring it up again. He’d grown to enjoy their morning commute, however short it was. Most mornings they walked in silence, each left to their own thoughts and worries. Occasionally they’d make small talk, but it was always Granger who initiated the conversation. At best, he considered them workplace acquaintances. 

 

This morning, however, he had a dilemma. This evening, he was going to visit his father in Azkaban with his mother, and Theo and Pansy were unavailable this time around. He knew they’d be here if they could, but as life would have it, they couldn’t. He knew Granger had a child of her own, a daughter if he remembered correctly. And hopefully, she wouldn’t have any plans this evening. So on that warm, breezy spring morning Draco found himself anxiously waiting for Granger to arrive at the coffee shop, her hazelnut with cream and no sugar already in hand. 

 

It wasn’t but five minutes later that she came walking up the sidewalk, her outfit perfectly in order this morning. Hermione greeted him with a smile and accepted her coffee from him. “Thanks,” she murmured before taking her first sip. 

 

Draco waited until they were walking to do what he’d been dreading since the night before when he learned he had no one to watch his son. “Hey Granger,” he said slowly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You wouldn’t happen to be free this evening, would you?” 

 

Hermione stopped in her tracks, eyes immediately going wide. “No, it’s not--” he sighed, knowing that he should have expected that sort of reaction. “I’m not asking you out on a date. I, er, need a babysitter for Scorpius this evening. It’d just be a few hours, and I’ll swing by after to pick him up. It wouldn’t be later than eight…” He’d wanted to say that Azkaban’s visiting hours were over at seven, but he wasn’t keen on telling her the details. 

 

“Oh,” she said, and he could see relief wash over her features. Then her face brightened into a smile, the same toothy smile she’d given him that first morning at the coffee shop. “I’d love to watch him. He and Rose will get along, I’m sure. We’re working on sharing, but well, she’s an only child. Still, she spends plenty of time with her cousins…” 

 

And then she was rambling, planning out the evening ahead and asking him questions about Scorpius without giving him time to actually answer them. It astounded him really, how willing she was to help out others in need. Here was a woman who’d never really met his son, and yet was eager to keep him for a few hours. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, releasing a long, slow breath. With that issue taken care of, he could at least focus on the work day ahead of him. “I could pay you--”

 

Hermione laughed, nearly choking on her coffee, before turning to look at him incredulously. “I sign your paychecks, Malfoy. You’d be giving me my own money back.” When he rolled his eyes, she added, “Besides, it’s really not a problem.” 

 

As they approached  _ A Better Place,  _ Draco realized that perhaps he and Granger had moved past acquaintances. Because acquaintances didn’t easily accept babysitting favors. Unsure if they could be called friends, Draco followed in behind her and waved at her as she departed for her office. 

 

“Granger,” he called out, realizing the one piece of information he’d forgotten to give her. “I’ll drop Scorpius off around five-thirty?” 

 

“Sounds great,” she said, leaning against her office door. “I’ve got a meeting in forty-five minutes that’s supposed to run through the morning, and I’m taking a half-day today so you can get my address from Gretchen.” 

 

Gretchen sat up straight in her chair, her head popping up over the desk at the sound of her name. “Do you need me, Miss Granger?” 

 

“Not at the moment, Gretchen, thank you,” Hermione said kindly. “Just make sure to get my address to Mister Malfoy before he leaves today, please?” 

 

“Of course, yes.” Gretchen replied, nodding fervently and jotting this task down. “I’ll get it to you before lunch,” she said to him. “I’ve got a busy morning, is all.” 

The window at the back of the ground floor, close to the door leading out to a small yard, was wide open and the morning post had started to arrive. Draco went to wave at Hermione, this time as thanks, but found that she had already stepped into her office. There was a small pang of disappointment in his chest, which he pushed away quickly before entering his own office. It was quiet and peaceful in his office; he disliked the hecticness of reception, but found that he didn’t much like being alone. 

 

While it was better than being cooped up in the house, the work was sometimes tedious and his thoughts would soon wander. Sometimes he got lost in the good memories, particularly the last two years. Scorpius’ birth had both terrified and excited him to no end. Astoria, astonishingly, was calmer than he was, even at her most hysterical moments. 

 

* * *

 

_ January, 2006 _

 

_ St. Mungo’s, London  _

 

_ “Draco,” she said pleadingly, resting her hand against his face. “Calm down, please. It’s just a regular check-up, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”  _

 

_ “Chest pains,” he said irritably. “You’ve been having chest pains. What if something is wrong?”  _

 

_ Astoria chuckled softly, and shook her head. She leaned forward best she could and kissed him briefly; warm, firm and most importantly, reassuring. She drew back slightly, but still kept her face close to his. He knew what she was doing, trying to read him. Her brown eyes were boring into his, searching for the thoughts he was too afraid to voice. But this was Astoria, his wife, and she knew him best.  _

 

_ “Worrying, while it shows that you care, is no help to you.” she said so quietly he knew no one else could hear. “And if you worry this much Draco,” she laughed again, shaking her head. “I know you’re going to make an excellent father.”  _

 

_ And there it was. She’d found it; his deepest worries. While his father had been good to him most of his life, they definitely had their trying times. His teen years was when the distance between them had sprouted, starting as a crack. But as the years passed, the war happened and he was incarcerated, that distance had grown. Draco had his resentments, though he never spoke of them. He wanted to make better choices than his father had once made.  _

 

_ “Right,” he said, unable to control the smile creeping up his lips. “I forgot, you know everything.”  _

 

_ “Indeed I do,” she whispered before kissing him on the nose. She brought her hand from his cheek to his hair, running her fingers through it. Draco let his eyes fall shut for a moment, his shoulders slumping and his heart rate slowing at her gentle touch. _

 

* * *

 

To make the usual loneliness seemingly more unbearable today, he couldn’t stop thinking about the visit he would paying his father lately. As far as Draco knew, his mother had been to visit him the previous week, but she hadn’t went into detail about their conversations. He didn’t bother to ask, afraid that he might not like the answer. However, when she asked him to accompany her this week, he realized the reason behind her request. It had to be him that told his father he sold the business. Just the thought of it was enough to twist his stomach into knots. 

 

With a shake of his head, he finally shed his light jacket that he’d sported this morning and got settled behind his desk. Draco glanced down at his watch and saw that it was barely ten past eight.  _ This is going to be a long day,  _ he thought. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ St. Thomas’ Hospital, London _

 

“How’s she feeling?” Hermione asked her father, who was currently sitting in the chair beside her mother’s bed. She stood in the doorway to her mother’s room, arms crossed over her chest. The sight of her parents in this situation wasn’t getting any easier as the months went on. 

 

When they found out the previous October that her mother had ovarian cancer, it’d hit the three of them hard. Her mother, Pamela, though still devastated was hardly surprised as her grandmother had had it. After that, it was six months filled with chemotherapy, radiation, long hours in waiting rooms and visits to home whenever she could. 

 

Now they were on her last month of treatment. She had just two weeks left and when she was done, she’d undergo another round of tests, further determining her fate. Hermione was so proud of her mother; she’d been a trooper since the beginning. They hardly ever heard her complain, and she was insistent on keeping things as normal as they could. But Hermione knew it was secretly taking a toll on her, and she could hardly blame her mother as she was doing the same thing with her own life. 

 

Her father looked up at her with tired eyes, his body sagging in the chair. His lips stretched into a smile when he laid eyes on her before standing up to give her a hug. When her father’s arms wrapped around her, Hermione felt her body relax. She missed her father’s hugs, the subtle whiff of his aftershave and the warmth he always emitted. 

 

“I’m glad you came,” Walter murmured before drawing back to take a look at her. They were always doing whenever they saw her after her divorce, treating her like a child in a way. “You haven’t been stressing out too much, have you dear?” he asked as he went to sit back down in his chair. Her mother slept on. She always napped for a while after her chemotherapy. 

 

“No, dad.” she replied with an eyeroll. There was a second chair pushed against the wall that she grabbed and moved to the other side of her mother’s bed. “And you know I come when I can,” she added after watching her mother’s chest rise and fall slowly for a moment. “Do you think they’ll work? The treatments.” 

 

Walter sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “Her doctors seem optimistic, but it’s hard to tell. Only thing we can do is wait.” 

 

Her father was as realistic as they came, which she had most certainly adopted. But being friends with Ron in her younger years, had taught her to at least be hopeful. And anyway, who didn’t want the treatments to work when it was their loved one enduring them? She heard a soft moan to her left, and the rustling of covers. 

 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Pamela said, reaching out her hand to take hold of Hermione’s. “How are you?” 

 

“I’m good, mum,” she said with a smile. “How are  _ you  _ feeling?” 

 

Pamela raised her free hand in a flippant manner and let her head loll to one side. “Oh you know,” she said airily. “I never feel my best after treatment, do I?” 

 

This was true, but not exactly what Hermione had meant when she asked. Before she could press her mother however, her father had gained her attention and the two of them were now talking in low voices. Hermione let out an inaudible sigh and sat back in her chair. She glanced down at her watch and saw that she’d have to leave in the next fifteen minutes if she wanted enough time to get her errands done before she had to pick up Rose. 

 

But there was still one more thing she needed to do before she left. Without wasting anymore time, Hermione cleared her throat loudly enough for the two of them to hear. 

 

“Mum,” she said, not caring that she interrupted their conversation. Her father was the one taking her mother home in just a couple of hours. “I’ve got to go soon, but I was hoping I could talk to you about something…” she shot an apologetic look at her father. 

 

Walter stood up from his chair with a groan. “Say no more,” he said. “My stomach was starting to grumble anyway,” He kissed her mother on the cheek, stopped to squeeze Hermione’s shoulder then proceeded to leave the two of them alone. 

 

Pamela turned to look at her then, her expression soft and kind. She felt her mother’s hand squeeze her own. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

 

“Nothing,” she said quickly, even though it wasn’t exactly true. “It’s just--” she stopped, unsure of how she wanted to phrase her worries. 

 

The truth was, she was confused. Hiring Malfoy had been an excellent decision, and ever since that morning last month when he had gotten her coffee for her, they’d gotten closer. The trouble was, this closeness seemed to be going one way. Out of all the conversations they’d had in the weeks past on their way to work or during their lunch hour, she’d come to realize Malfoy never spoke of himself. She knew Astoria passed away eight months ago, and she knew Scorpius was the same age as Rose. Of course she knew he’d sold his father’s company, it was what led him to his current job, but other than that...she didn’t know much. She didn’t even know his coffee order, and he knew  _ hers _ . It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part either; she asked questions in the beginning. Draco, however, usually gave vague, one word answers or shrugged. Eventually, she stopped. 

 

She knew part of the reason was he was probably guarding himself, after the death of his wife. He definitely seemed more reserved, but she couldn’t blame him for being that way. Even still, it was starting to bother her and the fact that it bothered her, was bothering her. Why did she care so much? 

 

“Do you remember me telling you I hired Draco Malfoy?” she asked. “That one boy from school.” 

 

Pamela’s lips immediately turned into a frown. “That boy who was horrible to you for most of your time there?” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, mum. He’s different now, I’ve told you. Anyway…” With a deep breath she launched into her story, starting with that morning in March in the coffee shop and ending with his request this morning. 

 

“Why is this bothering me so much, mum?” she finished lamely. “I suppose you could call us friends but we don’t even talk about that,” Hermione shook her head, gazing at her mother. 

 

To her surprise, her mother chuckled. “Oh darling,” she said gently, still smiling after her laughter faded. “It sounds as though you’ve grown to care about him. And if you consider the two of you friends, well, that’s not exactly a one way street is it?” 

 

“No,” she said quietly, now looking down at her hands. Her eyes caught the faint white ring of skin that was shielded by her wedding band all these years. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” 

 

* * *

 

_ February 2007 _

 

_ Ron and Hermione’s flat, London _

_ “Are you even listening?” a harsh voice snapped from in front of her.  _

 

_ Hermione looked up from her paperwork to see her husband staring at her with a cold, hard expression. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his face was almost as red as his hair. She had heard him come in around twenty minutes ago, but she hadn’t realized that he’d sat down and tried to talk to her. The quill fell from between her cramping fingers. She let out a groan as her forehead hit the table with a dull thud.  _

 

_ “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just got so much work to do and--” _

 

_ “Yeah, so you’ve said before.” Ron said bitterly. “But you do have a family, Hermione. A daughter, who might like to spend some time with you.”  _

 

_ “Oh, don’t you dare, Ronald!” she snapped, slamming her palm against the table. “Don’t you dare start making me feel guilty! I’ve worked  _ so  _ hard on this for years now, and our daughter is well taken care of,” her voice trembled slightly as she finished shouting at her husband. All of their conversations end this way these days.  _

 

_ Ron said nothing, however. She could feel his glare burning through the top of her head, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her head. She knew that she’d been distant lately, always working and going to meetings, but it was her job now. Years ago when Ron had first become an Auror, she’d hardly complained about his training hours or how long he was gone for on missions. Even now she didn’t know complain.  _

 

_ Well, these days she looked forward to it.  _

 

_ “I just thought,” Ron said slowly, “that you might want to spend some time with your family. Take a break from work and relax.”  _

 

_ Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but then she heard the chair scraping and a heavy sigh followed by his footsteps. When she looked up, she knew the kitchen would be empty, but she couldn’t help the disappointment that flooded through her. She’d been just a few seconds too late.  _

 

* * *

 

“Hermione?” Pamela said, bringing her back to the present. Hermione shook her head, scattering the unwanted memory. Her mother’s face was lined with worry. She smiled at her mother and squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

 

“I’m fine, mum.” she said, forcing herself to smile. “But I should get going, I’ve got errands to run before Malfoy drops off Scorpius.” 

 

“Of course, dear,” her mother said. “Do find your father on your way out and send him back here, please.” 

She smiled and laughed through her nose. “Sure, mum,” she said before leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks for listening.” 

 

“You know I’m always here when you need me, love.” Pamela whispered, bringing her hand up to stroke the back of her hair and pat her cheek lovingly. “I love you. Drop by soon, all right?” 

 

“I will, mum.” Hermione said, standing up now and hoisting her bag over her shoulder. “I love you, too.”

 

With another wave, Hermione slipped out of her hospital room and followed the signs towards the cafeteria. The halls were mostly empty save a few nurses bustling from one room to the next, or a stray doctor looking down at their charts. When she arrived at the cafeteria, she found her father sitting at a table reading a copy of the newspaper with a styrofoam cup in front of him. 

 

“Hey dad,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, but mum wants you to come back to her room.” 

 

“All right,” Walter said, folding up the newspaper and hoisting himself up. “You mum have a good talk? Everything all right?” 

 

Hermione grinned, unable to control herself. It was no mystery where she adapted her tendency to ask a lot of questions. Her father was constantly streaming out questions, without ever giving you time to answer them. 

 

“I’m fine, dad,” she assured him. He drew her in for a hug after shooting her a doubtful look. 

 

He kissed the top of her head and said, “Love you, sweetheart.” 

 

“Love you too, dad.” 

 

As Hermione walked out of the hospital’s doors, Hermione noticed the weight in her chest felt heavier. Granted, the conversation with her mum had reminded her of her own failures during her marriage to Ron, but it was more than that. Because after so much time of burying herself in her work, practically ignoring her husband, here she was bothered by Draco Malfoy doing the same. There was only one word for what she was: a hypocrite. 

 

No, she wasn’t married to Malfoy. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if they were friends. And now, agreeing to watch Scorpius didn’t seem like such a wise decision. Malfoy knew quite a bit about her life; he knew she was divorced (and she was eternally grateful he never asked about it), he knew what she did in her spare time, she’d told him stories about her friends and Rose. Hermione didn’t know anything at all, really. What did he do in his spare time? Yes, he had a son at home but every parent needs a break. She didn’t  _ want  _ to doubt but...when you’re given nothing at all, you don’t know what to think sometimes. 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Azkaban Prison, North Sea _

 

All he could hear at the moment was his mother’s sobs beside him, a sound he’d rarely heard in his life. The guard sitting across from them in the cold, small room did not look sympathetic in the slightest. He was shaking with rage, paralyzed with shock and ridden with grief. He  _ wanted  _ to lunge across the table at the man, shake him and ask him what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t move. Narcissa continued to cry, hiding her face from both of them and muttering incoherently. 

 

When Narcissa and Draco first arrived at Azkaban at precisely six o’clock, they were led, not to a visitation room with Lucius waiting for them, but one with a guard. It was then that they were told Lucius had passed away earlier that day. Draco had flown into a rant immediately upon hearing the news, demanding to know why they hadn’t been contacted when it had first happened, how it happened, and what they had done with his father’s body. 

 

The guard had started to chuckle, but muffled it poorly with a laugh. “This place has drained the life out of hundreds of people, didn’t you know? With all due respect Mr. Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy was no young wizard.” 

 

“I’ll be contacting our lawyer,” Draco said as evenly as he could manage, a cold undertone to his voice. “It’s no secret how this place treats its prisoners, and I’ll be doing everything I can to launch an investigation against Azkaban. You see, dementors haven’t haunted the walls of Azkaban for six years now. And with reasonable nutrition and living standards, your prisoners should live healthier incarcerated lives.”

 

How he was managing to remain so calm, he didn’t know. Even Narcissa’s crying had ceased, and he could now feel her eyes on him. 

 

“My father  _ was  _ a young wizard, by our standards, you nitwit.  He was only fifty-four. He could have had fifty more years! Maybe more!” He hadn’t realized he’d started shouting until he saw a hint of fear in the guard’s eyes. 

 

“Draco,” Narcissa spoke softly, placing a hand on his arm. 

 

Draco looked down at her touch, and found that he’d also risen out of his chair. His chest was heaving and his face felt hot. The guard was looking back and forth between the both of them, the fear only leaving his features when Draco sat back down next to his mother. Narcissa withdrew a silk handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. She sniffled, cleared her throat quietly and locked eyes with the guard. 

 

“We will be insisting an investigation be launched into the treatment of your prisoners, but first, I want to see my husband.” 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Hermione’s flat, London  _

 

Hermione stared around at the mess left behind in the wake of the two toddlers, hands on her hips and a heavy sigh ready to escape. Her eyes fell to the tiny figures fast asleep on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows. She shook her head, maneuvering around building blocks, books, and stuffed animals and bent down to give her daughter a kiss on the forehead. Rose stirred, but immediately fell back asleep. Hermione stood up, glanced down at her watch and saw that it was ten after eight. 

 

After Draco had left, she’d made Scorpius and Rose dinner. She was a bit worried about how well they would get along, but the two had seemed to click immediately. Well, as well as toddlers could click anyway. They made her laugh with their antics and mess-making while she ate her own dinner and kept themselves occupied with Rose’s copious amount of toys while she cleaned up her tiny kitchen. 

 

It wasn’t as stressful as she had thought it would be, watching the two toddlers. But Rose seemed to be on her best behavior and Scorpius was an absolute delight, albeit a little quiet. Not that that was a bad thing, but well, toddlers weren’t exactly quiet beings. They liked to ask questions, explore, and talk. Scorpius, however, was quite content sitting quietly in one spot. 

 

With Rose and Scorpius occupied, Hermione had taken the opportunity to start the schedules at the foundation for the next two weeks and going over the payroll for this week. Occasionally her thoughts drifted to Draco and what he was doing right now, but she pushed them away with ease. 

 

But now, her work was done (the work she had at home anyway), the children were asleep and all she could do now was wait. Rose would pick up her toys in the morning, and she’d already cleaned up from dinner. With a sigh, Hermione sat down in her arm chair and picked up the book she kept on the side table. She should have been content, with the fire crackling away in the grate, her daughter sound asleep, and a good book in front of her. But there was still that ache tha had settled in her chest since the divorce, and her mind kept wandering to Draco’s possible whereabouts. 

 

She’d barely gotten through one page when there was a knock on her door. Jumping up at the sound and tossing her book aside, she all but raced to the door. When she yanked it open, the first thing she saw was the anger evident on Draco’s face. 

 

“Hi,” she said breathlessly, shocked at his appearance and stepping back to let him in. “Is everything alright?” 

 

Draco had walked to the end of the short hallway leading to the rest of her flat, hands on his hips and head slightly bowed. She watched him sigh. He picked his head up and turned around slowly, not quite meeting her eye. 

 

“Not really, no,” he answered quietly. “I greatly appreciate you watching Scorpius for me, but I would like to take my son home now.” 

 

Every word was slow, grounded out. Hermione was worried now. She may have only known him for two months, and just barely at that, but something was wrong. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him that he could talk about what was wrong, that he didn’t have to leave right away, but all that came out was a soft, “Oh.” 

 

To her surprise, Draco met her gaze, head cocked to the side. “What?” 

 

“Nothing, I just--I was thinking we could talk? I can make us something to drink. Coffee, tea…” She swallowed, her mouth had gone dry and she could feel herself starting to sweat. Why was she doing this to herself? To him? He wanted to go home, and yet here she was asking him to stay. 

 

She watched his face fall, guilt riddling his features. He tousled his hair and sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture,” he said, glancing back briefly at his sleeping son. “It’s just been a long day and I should Scorp home before it gets any later.” 

 

Hermione nodded, forcing her lips into a smile. “Of course,” she said. “I understand.” 

 

Draco turned around, facing his sleeping son once more. But it seemed he was frozen in place. Hands back on his hips, he continued to stare. She watched his shoulders lower so they were no longer hunched around her neck. Shuffling her weight from foot to foot, she waited for him to pick up Scorpius and be on his way, or to do anything than just  _ stand  _ there honestly. 

 

Right as she opened her mouth to say something, as at least two minutes had passed, Draco looked back at her over his shoulder. 

 

“Maybe I could do with a cup of tea…” he murmured, his voice barely audible. He glanced back at Scorpius, then back at her, a trace of a smile now on his pale, pink lips. “And it doesn’t look at though he’s waking up anytime soon.” 

Hermione grinned, her eyes lighting up and a small rush of excitement flooding through her. “Great,” she said. “I’ll, erm, go put the kettle on.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione set his mug down in front of him before sitting across from him at her small, circular table with her own tea. He thanked her with a head nod and raising one corner of his mouth. As she brought her mug up to her lips, she noticed the way his eyes fluttered closed at the taste of his first sip, and a small sigh escaped his mouth. 

 

“Rough day?” she asked as casually as she could, the brim of her mug only centimeters from her lips. 

 

“Rougher than usual,” he replied grimly. He frowned into his mug, then asked, “How was Scorpius? Not too much trouble I hope?” 

 

She pursed her lips at his attempt to change the subject but provided him with an answer anyway. “He was really great,” she said. “I’m not trying to offend you, but I was kind of surprised. Then again, I was worried about Rose, since she has problems with sharing,” she glanced over her shoulder at her daughter and Scorpius, a smile tugging at her lips. “Scorpius was wonderful, really, I’ll watch him anytime.” 

 

Her cheeks grew hot as the last of her words left her mouth. Draco looked up at her, a small smile on his lips. There was a twinkle in her eye she hadn’t seen before, and he looked quite proud. “I think he inherited Astoria’s personality,” he said fondly. “Reserved, calm, kind.” 

 

Hermione hummed in response, sipping her tea. “Maybe,” she said, recalling the spare times she’d conversed with his late wife. “But you deserve some of the credit, too.” 

 

He smiled at that, but it seemed strained, almost forced. “Thank you,” he said. 

 

Silence settled over them, and she didn’t press him for questions. She’d planned on it originally, but after seeing how exhausted he looked, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. They drank the rest of their tea, watching their children sleep soundly, each lost in their own thoughts. She watched the slow rise and fall of Rose’s chest, her wild, brown curls splayed across the couch cushion. It always amazed how innocent and peaceful she looked when she was asleep. It used to make her cry when Rose was still a newborn, like her mind couldn’t even comprehend what it was seeing. 

 

Just as she started to get lost in her memories, Draco’s voice cut through the air, pulling her back to the present.

 

“My father passed away today.” The words sounded thick and strained like it was taking every ounce of the strength he had not to let his voice break. 

 

She gasped, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh my--Draco, I am so sorry.” 

 

She didn’t even want to  _ think  _ about the pain he must be in. It was less than a year ago that he lost his life, and now...he’d lost his father. She leaned forward, and rested her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze. He didn’t dare look at her, and she knew he was trying not to cry. His hand was cold against her palm, but he hadn’t brushed her away so she kept it there. 

 

Draco cleared his throat, then spoke again. “Mother and I were supposed to visit. When we arrived, they told us what happened,” his tone grew angrier and it was then that he launched into a rushed explanation of their conversation with the guard. 

 

By the end of it, Hermione was leaning back in his seat, jaw practically to the floor, both hands over her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe…” she exhaled, slowly. “You and your mother have every right to fight this,” she said. “In fact, if you weren’t, I’d be insisting that you did.” 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t even want to think about the headache this is going to bring on. The...funeral preparations...hiring a lawyer. I’ll need to visit the Ministry first,” he grumbled to himself. 

 

“Take a week off,” she said firmly. This got his attention, his gaze finally meeting hers. “ _ Take a week off,”  _ she repeated more sternly when Draco opened his mouth to object. 

 

His mouth snapped shut, and his gaze fell to the empty mug clutched in his hands. Draco nodded subtly. “Thank you,” he said softly. 


	5. slow progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry this chapter took even longer than the last one. With the craziness of holidays over now, chapter six shouldn't so long. I can't guarantee anything though; updates still may take a little while. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy; let me know what you think!

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire _

 

The first day after his father’s death was the hardest. How he managed to get out of bed that morning, dress himself and his son, and pack all of their necessary belongings was beyond him. He felt like he was in a fog, like this was all a dream. Scorpius seemed to sense something was wrong as he was compliant and quiet while getting ready. When he’d arrived at the Manor that morning, his mother was not there to greet him. Instead, Milly, their house-elf, was waiting for them in the foyer. 

 

Milly informed him that his mother was in a guest bedroom in the east wing--the complete opposite side of her old room, the one she had shared with his father--and that Narcissa had not gotten out of bed all morning. He hummed at this, then thanked her and asked if she could escort Scorpius up to his room. 

 

The elf and Scorpius started towards the stairs, and Draco watched them go before looking up at the ceiling. He took in the expanse of the foyer, all of the extra space and the lack of furniture. It seemed as spacious as it had when he was a child. But now there was an emptiness invading the Mansion, leaving it feeling cold and stale. Despite the fact that his mother had been living here after the war, it was different knowing his father would never again walk through those doors. A chill ran down his spine. Draco shook his head, inhaled sharply and headed for the stairs. As he walked, he steeled himself for dealing with his mother. 

 

It took him ten minutes to find his mother in the East Wing. He’d knocked lightly on the door before entering, and found his mother curled up under the covers. 

 

“Mother?” he called out gently, crossing the room. 

 

When she didn’t move or respond to him, his heart skipped a beat and a wave of panic rushed through him. The last thing he wanted was to lose his mother too. He reached the bed and saw that Narcissa was staring out the large windows, her cheeks stained with tears and her hair a complete mess. He’d never seen his mother look like this; the sight was disconcerting. 

 

Draco sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on her arm. “Mum?” 

 

At this, Narcissa’s eyes snapped to him. She smiled faintly before returning her gaze to the window. 

 

“Mother, you need to get up. We need to start...we have a lot to do over the next week.” He tried to keep his voice even and calm, yet firm. 

Narcissa nodded, but made no effort to move. She sighed, then lifted a hand to wipe at her cheeks. He heard her sniffle as a few more tears slipped down her face and onto the pillow. His heart ached for her in that moment. Narcissa was typically a strong, stoic woman. Never did she let her emotions show, and it took quite a lot to upset her. To see his mother like this...it was something he wasn’t sure he could handle. It hadn’t even been a year since he lost his spouse, and now he would need to comfort his mother for the same loss. 

 

“Draco,” she said finally, startling him from his thoughts. She was sitting up now, and had reached out with both her hands to grasp one of his own. “I...It pains me to know that my son has already gone through this pain, and so young. You had my deepest sympathy when Astoria passed, but I didn’t truly understand your pain. Now, however,” Narcissa let out a shaky breath, then cleared her throat. “I admire you for how well you’ve handled it, Draco. This pain is unbearable, and I am so sorry that--” 

 

Her voice broke, and a fresh round of tears began to fall. Her shoulders shook as Draco reached forward to pull his mother in for a hug. His eyes stung but he refused to cry. Right now, he needed to be strong for his mother. She had been strong for him all those months ago, and now, sadly, he was returning the favor. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation, London  _

 

Hermione had left her office door open today, something she rarely ever did, and she didn’t know why she’d strayed from her norm today. A little voice in her head told her it was in hopes that maybe Draco would show up today anyway, that he would tell her he didn’t need a leave from work. It was then that she had scolded herself for thinking so selfishly; her door remained open, however. 

 

The morning painstakingly slow, even with Rose for company. As a treat for her daughter, and a reason to get out of her office for a bit, they walked down the block to the bakery at lunch time. Sadly, this did nothing to quell her concern for Draco. While Rose made a mess of her sandwich bites, Hermione picked at her bagel and mulled over her options. 

 

She could stop by later this evening, bring Rose over so Scorpius could have a playmate. She had a small collection of books on Wizard Law as she was planning on attending University this coming fall. Dropping by unannounced seemed rude, she realized. Draco and his mother were grieving. The least she could do was send an owl. Resolved that that would be the first thing she would do once she returned to work, Hermione scooped up her daughter and paid for their food. 

 

As she and Rose walked down the sidewalk hand-in-hand, Hermione remained deep in thought. Lucius’s death was peculiar, but what was more, this was the second death Draco endured in the last year. His wife, and how his father. Her heart ached for him, her mind unable to comprehend what that must be like. 

 

“Mummy?” she heard Rose squeak from beside her. “You look sad.” 

 

Hermione felt the corner of her lips pull upwards; her daughter was unusually observant for a toddler. 

 

“Mummy is a little sad, yes,” she said, turning her head to glance down at her daughter. 

 

“Why?” 

 

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, debating how she should phrase her answer. “Do you remember your new friend Scorpius?” 

 

Rose nodded eagerly, smiling. 

 

“Well, Scorpius’s grandfather passed away,” Hermione explained. “Like Uncle Harry’s mummy and daddy did when Uncle Harry was young.” 

 

At this news, Rose bowed her head, brows furrowed together. “Oh,” her daughter said quietly. “Can we go visit him?” Rose gasped, clasping both hands around Hermione’s. “Can we make cookies?” 

 

Hermione laughed, a real genuine laugh, before picking her daughter up and hugging her. “Of course we can,” she said, kissing Rose on the cheek. 

 

As she stared back at her daughter, who was smiling at her, Hermione’s heart began to ache. Rose was so much like her father. Not to say that Hermione didn’t have a heart, but baking cookies was such a Ron thing to do in times of comfort and condolences. Hermione had no regrets about their marriage ending, but every time Rose reminded her of Ron, she was reminded of the friendship she’d lost in the process. For some reason, that stung more than the divorce. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire _

 

Draco scratched out his previous written sentence and heaved an irritated sigh. He and his mother were working on their official complaint to Azkaban to give to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Narcissa was waiting until after he’d written something to make amendments. This was the fourth time she’d pointed out something that’d he written, and it was taking every ounce of strength he had not to snap at her. 

 

The windows to the study stood wide open, allowing the fresh spring breeze to flow in freely. The room smelled of fresh rain and roses, but all the scent did was remind him of his childhood. Of his father. Draco pushed the parchment away from him, and towards his mother for her to read over. He leaned back into the armchair, ran his hands down his face and groaned. He was exhausted. Sleep had escaped him last night; he spent seven hours tossing and turning beneath his silk sheets, thinking of his father and everything he was now partially responsible for. 

 

Resting his head back, he took to staring out the open window. The sky was a pale blue, not a cloud in sight. He watched the rose hedges shake in the breeze and a small flock of birds cross the sky. Far in the distance, he spotted a small speck. As it grew closer, Draco recognized it as his eagle owl with a letter attached to its leg. His heart skipped a bit, his mind flitting through every possibility of what the letter could contain. 

 

Narcissa was still working on their rough draft, crossing out lines and pursing her lips in dissatisfaction. The eagle owl landed gracefully atop a spare desk, and held out its foot patiently. Draco was already at the desk by the time his bird landed and began to untie the letter immediately. 

 

His heart skipped another beat when he recognized Hermione’s handwriting on the envelope as he pulled out a few owl treats and held out his palm. The owl took the treats and hooted softly. Draco retreated back to the arm chair, letter already opened. 

 

“Who is that from, Draco?” his mother asked, finally having notice the interruption. 

 

“My boss,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the parchment. 

 

“Hermione Granger?” 

 

Draco nodded. “She wants to come over for dinner. She also says she has some resources that may help.” 

 

“Doesn’t she have a daughter?” 

 

He folded up the letter, feeling pleased but slightly nervous about the prospect of having Hermione over. She’d never once stepped foot in his home since she was tortured on his drawing room floor. Though it had been ten years since the war ended, it caught him by surprise that she would want to come to his home. 

 

“Her name is Rose,” he told his mother. “She’s the same age as Scorpius.”

 

“Hm,” Narcissa said, setting down the quill and reaching for her tea cup. “If she may be able to help, you must invite her over, Draco.” 

 

“That’s what I was thinking,” he replied, taking the quill she’d just been using and grabbing a fresh roll of parchment. 

 

Draco scribbled out his reply, pushing down the excitement that was brewing inside him. Though he was relieved to hear Hermione thought she might be able to help in some way, Draco was merely relieved he was going to see her so soon. He wasn’t quite sure why, as it was a feeling he had yet to address, but every time he was around her he felt calm. He felt like he could handle the chaos that was his life; his grief, his loneliness, the crushing weight of the responsibility of raising his son on his own. 

 

He sealed his reply in an envelope and scribbled the Foundation’s address before tying it to his owl’s leg. He stroked its beak, muttered his thanks and watched it fly out the window. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire  _

 

Hermione pressed the doorbell with her free hand, trying her best to suppress the anxiety that had settled in her stomach after receiving Draco’s reply. Relieved as she was that he hadn’t pushed her away and her offer to help, she couldn’t help but feel nervous about the whole ordeal. She knew his mother would be there, why wouldn’t she be? But Hermione hadn’t spoken to the Malfoy Matriarch since….well, she couldn’t remember ever having a conversation with Narcissa. 

 

Rose was humming a tune and fidgeting as they waited. The sky was now covered in thick, gray clouds and the breeze had picked up. Her exposed arms prickled as the wind blew. Hermione mentally praised herself for insisting Rose wore her rain coat. After what felt like an eternity of waiting in the chilly weather, anxiety mounting, the grand oak doors swung open. Draco stood before her, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other on the door handle. His lips spread into a smile, contrasting with the dark circles under his eyes and his tousled hair. 

 

“Glad you could make it,” he said, stepping back so she and Rose could step into the warmth. When he spotted Rose, he knelt down and held out his hand. “Hello Rose, I didn’t get the pleasure of meeting you the last time. My name is Draco, I work for your mum.” 

 

Rose smiled shyly and Hermione felt her heart swell at the scene. Draco looked soft, friendly, warm...it suited him. Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, letting her bag hang in the crook of her elbow, and smiled down at the scene. 

 

“Sorry,” she said as Draco stood up. “She’s a bit shy at times.” 

 

“No need to apologize,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Er, would you mind if Milly took Rose up to Scorpius’s room?” 

 

“Milly is--?” 

 

“Our house-elf,” Draco explained. “Don’t worry, she’ll be supervising them as well.” 

 

“All right,” she nodded. “Rose, would you like to play with Scorpius?” 

 

Rose gasped in excitement. “Yes!” 

 

“Excellent,” Draco said. He called for Milly and asked the tiny elf to escort Rose upstairs. Draco and Hermione watched the two slowly climb the stairs. When they reached the top, Draco turned to her and spoke again. 

 

“Everyone is waiting in the sitting room, shall we?” he held out his arm to her, forcing a smile.

 

Though her stomach was churning with anxiety, she took his arm anyway and set off to the sitting room. 

 

When they arrived, Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t expect ‘everyone’ to include Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott. The pair was in deep, hushed conversation with Narcissa, making all three oblivious to the arrival of Hermione and Draco. Taking advantage of this moment, Hermione turned to Draco and whispered, “A warning would have been nice.” 

 

“Sorry,” he murmured as they approached the seating area, shooting her an apologetic smile. 

 

“Mother?” Draco said when they’d reached the circle of chairs and sofas. 

 

Narcissa broke apart from the conversation, eyes landing on Hermione immediately. Her lips upturned slightly as she rose from the sofa and extended her hand gracefully. 

 

“Miss Granger,” she said. “A pleasure to be meeting you, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

 

Hermione shook her head briefly. “A pleasure to meeting you as well, and my condolences for your loss.” 

Hermione hoped that she sounded sincere and she must have as Narcissa offered her a smile before sitting down again. Pansy and Theo stood up to shake her hand as well, though neither of them said a word. She was thankful for this though; her salutations with Draco’s mother were awkward enough. Draco adjusted his tie and sat down on an empty sofa. He gestured for her to sit next to him, to which she complied, and placed her heavy bag on the coffee table. 

 

“So,” she began, when the other four remained silent, all looking at her. “I took the liberty of going through the records and obituaries of previous and current Azkaban prisoners. Azkaban  _ will  _ try to argue that this was a one time occurrence, and  _ that  _ is what we need to disprove.” 

 

Hermione pulled out several thick, overflowing folders, followed by several books on Wizarding Law and passed them around the table. “Now, obviously there are records that are from a century again and more, but we don’t need to focus on those as much. I think we should start from as recent as fifty years ago, see what information that provides us, then we can go digging into the older records if need be. The texts will be used for references, to see what exactly was legal at the time and what wasn’t. I’ve already marked the chapters that relate to the laws of Azkaban so there is no need to search the entire text.” 

 

Silence still greeted her as she waited for them to get started, having already opened her own folder and sorting out the profiles within. “What?” she said, when she looked up and found the four of them looking at her with shock. 

 

“You’re studying Wizard Law?” Theo asked, making Hermione jump at the sound of his voice. He had one eyebrow arched in disbelief, yet his lips were set in a smirk. 

 

“In my spare time,” she said flippantly, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. When everyone continued to stare, she sighed and explained further. “With running the Foundation, I needed to make sure I was complying with all the laws. Now,” she shrugged. “I just read into it as a hobby.” 

 

Draco gave her a curious look and pursed his lips. Pansy rolled her eyes and began sorting through the folder. Narcissa however, was beaming. 

 

“I’ll also need to take a look at the statement you’re preparing; your official complaint against Azkaban.” 

 

“Not a problem,” Narcissa answered as Draco opened his mouth. “We are grateful to you, Miss Granger. Whatever you need, just ask.” 

 

Hermione nodded, feeling uncomfortable again and cleared her throat. “Thank you, Mrs Malfoy. That is very kind of you. Shall we get started then?” 

 

Everyone murmured in agreement and settled into a comfortable position. Hermione had barely started reading a profile of a prisoner from thirty-five years ago when she felt a pair of eyes on her. Peeking under her eyelids, she could see Narcissa, Theo and Pansy all absorbed into the task. Her cheeks flushed when she realized it was Draco, and she couldn’t resist picking her head up to look at him. He was smiling, admiration written on his face. The second they looked eyes however, Draco snapped his head back down to his folder. She heard him clear his throat as she turned back to her the profile she’d begun to examine, her stomach fluttering. And if she was not mistaken, she was sure she had felt her heart skip a beat upon seeing the look on his face. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire _

 

Dinner was a quiet affair, save two squealing, messy toddlers. The quietness was moreso out of awkwardness than defeat and disappointment, however. To his surprise, they had found several cases of untimely deaths among previous Azkaban prisoners. And now they had to account for the effect of the dementors, and whether that played a part in their death. It was going to be tricky, but  _ of course,  _ Hermione had already begun research on the effects of being around dementors long-term. 

 

Cutlery clanged against plates as they ate. Milly ran around the kitchen cleaning the dishes and wiping down surfaces. Hermione kept her eyes trained on her plate as if she could pretend his mother, Theo and Pansy weren’t there if she didn’t look at them. Draco kept glancing over at her between bites, still amazed by how much she knew about Wizard Law. He was amazed by her, honestly. 

 

He knew that was still wounded from her divorce, but outwardly she never let it show. She’d built her own career, was successful at her job, and (in his opinion) was doing great as a single parent. Today he learned she’s casually studying Wizard Law,  _ and  _ she’d set time aside to help him in building a case against Azkaban. She was somehow doing it all, and he didn’t have the faintest idea how. 

 

When Hermione met his gaze for the second time that night, he felt the same jolt course through his body that he’d felt earlier in the sitting room. This time, he forced himself to keep eye contact, and returned her smile. Simultaneously they looked back down at their plates, Draco’s cheeks now hotter than the rest of his face. 

 

After they’d all finished dessert, Milly cleared away the dishes with a snap of her fingers. Pansy and Theo were already out of their seats, though Draco had no idea where they were headed. Narcissa pursed her lips at them then rose slowly from her seat. 

 

“Thank you again, Miss Granger. You’ve helped us tremendously today. If--” Narcissa paused, glancing at Draco quickly then back at Hermione, “If Draco is alright with it, I would love to have you here again tomorrow. Your knowledge and possession of valuable resources are essential in this matter. Assuming you are free tomorrow evening, that is.” 

 

“That--that would be lovely, thank you.” Hermione stammered. “Of course I can come again tomorrow. Rose will be happy,” she added as an afterthought, though she still sounded nervous. 

 

Draco was thrown off by his mother’s request, but he had to agree: They needed Hermione’s help. Hermione turned to him then, as did his mother. He shrugged casually. “Scorpius will be happy as well.” 

 

“It’s settled then,” Narcissa said. “Goodnight Miss Granger, I shall see you tomorrow.” 

 

Hermione nodded and neither of them spoke a word until she’d disappeared up the stairs. He turned to her, hands shoved in his pockets and said, “Care to stay a little longer?” 

 

She smiled warmly. “I probably shouldn’t travel home yet anyway. This is my third glass of wine and my head is a bit fuzzy.” 

 

Draco couldn’t help but smile in return. Her cheeks were tinted pink, and her eyes looked a bit glossy. “I’m sure we can find an empty room,” he said, “Assuming you’d rather not be around Pansy and Theo.” 

 

“You assumed correctly,” she said, rising from her chair. “It’s not--I don’t have anything against them. It’s just very--”

 

“Awkward,” Draco finished for her. Hermione nodded solemnly, looking down at her feet. She cast a hovering charm on their wine glasses, picked up a sleeping Rose from the highchair, and balanced her on her hip. 

 

“Ready?” 

 

Draco nodded, picked up his son and led the way back to the main sitting room he hoped would be empty. The room still held all of their work from earlier that evening, and he knew that Pansy and Theo wouldn’t return to the room tonight. When he and Hermione had set their sleeping children down on a sofa, he turned to the grate and lit a fire. With a flick of his wand, the windows shut one by one. It was a damp, chilly spring night, and the smell of fresh roses were starting to give him a headache. 

 

Hermione had settled on a separate sofa than their children, swishing her wine around in her glass and staring out one of the many large windows. Draco sat down beside her, grabbing his wine glass from the coffee table. He caught sight of the profiles and cases they’d been studying that evening, and he felt a tug at his heart. This was far from over, he realized. Their work had really only just begun. And who knew how long the Wizengamot would drag this out for. Regardless, they were at least making progress. 

 

“Thank you again for everything today,” he mumbled. “You really are a huge help.” 

 

Hermione turned her head away from the window, a sad smile on her lips. “How are you feeling?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, really. I can tell you’re tired, and apprehensive about how the case will work out but...other than that.” 

 

His lips tugged upwards into a half-smirk as he shook his head. She was quite perceptive. “I miss him,” he said after several long seconds. “And I feel guilty for missing him. He wasn’t--” he paused, clearing his throat and taking a sip of wine. “He wasn’t the best person. He made mistakes and he...really did a number on me when I was younger but…” 

 

“He was still your father,” Hermione said firmly. “And despite his beliefs and actions...he loved you too.” 

 

Draco nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Talking about his feelings was something he didn’t like to do, and when his feelings also involved his father, it was practically the last thing he wanted to do. But Hermione had given up her evening to help him, and he felt it rude to deny her of conversation. Not to mention he’d asked her to stay. 

 

He rubbed at his temples to ease the dull pounding in his head. Hermione had eased back into the sofa and was staring out the window again. She didn’t seem to mind the silence. Draco felt a small wave of relief wash over him and allowed himself to lean back into the cushions. He sipped his wine and watched the rise and fall of Scorpius’s chest. The fire crackled and rain began to spatter against the windows once more. 

 

“Can I ask you something,” Hermione said softly, now staring down into her wine glass. 

 

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “Shoot.” 

 

He watched her inhale sharply, furrowing her brows. She grimaced before she looked up at him. “Do you ever...hate when Scorpius reminds you of Astoria?” 

 

His eyes grew wide at her question; that had not been what he was expecting. Hating himself for what he was about to say, he nodded. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice quiet. “There are times I appreciate it...treasure it. Other times…” he didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t want to tell her it usually ended in tears. 

 

“Rose is so much like Ron sometimes,” Hermione said with a groan. “It always catches me off guard, you know?” 

She then launched into a brief re-telling of her conversation with Rose about coming to the Manor tonight. She let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head when she’d finished. 

 

“Bringing baked goods, it was such a Ron thing to do. And I--I wasn’t ready for her suggestion.” 

 

He frowned, and decided to ask the one question he’d been wanting to ask for a few weeks now. 

 

“Why did you two get divorced?” he asked. “I mean, aside from Potter and Ginny, I thought you two were...you know…” 

 

Hermione shot him another sad smile, tucked her legs underneath her bum and leaned against the back of the sofa. “I wasn’t the best wife and mother,” she explained in a pained voice. “I was so caught up in my work, the Foundation had really started to take off and...I didn’t want to have to give up my career.” 

 

Draco scoffed, and for a moment Hermione must have thought he was going to criticize her because she shot him a glare, but her features relaxed once he spoke. “So Weasley expected you to be like his mother?” 

 

She nodded slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with stay-at-home mothers,” she clarified. “But it’s not for me. I admit that I should have spent more time with Ron and Rose than I did, but at the same time...this was my dream.” 

 

“Maybe the divorce was the right way to go,” he offered cautiously. “You two were always bickering at Hogwarts, and it seems like he just didn’t understand you, Granger.” 

 

Hermione cocked her head, looking at him curiously. “Perhaps,” she murmured. Then she added, “We didn’t have that flame anymore...that lust, desire to be with one another. Rose only happened because of--” she held up her wine glass and he let out a soft, “Ahh.” 

 

“I’m not sad about the divorce,” Hermione said after a long moment of silence. “But I--I wish I hadn’t lost a friend too.” 

 

Unsure of what else to say on the subject, Draco said, “So, Wizard Law is your new hobby?” 

 

After taking a tip of wine Hermione said with a small shrug, “Like I said, I felt it necessary being that I run the Foundation.” 

 

Draco examined her features and determined that she wasn’t telling the whole truth, that there was more behind this new hobby of hers. He scooted a little closer to her on the sofa after setting down his wine glass. “Come on, Granger. What is it?” 

 

Hermione frowned and set down her wine glass next to his. She didn’t look at him when he spoke and once again, he saw her cheeks flush pink. “Honestly?” she said. “I was planning on going to Law school. I wanted to wait until everything was stable with the Foundation and then I got pregnant with Rose and now…” she let out a long sigh, looking wistfully out the window. “It’s just not the right time.” 

 

He let out a snort, picked up their wine glasses again and handed her her glass. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Granger, there is no such thing as ‘the right time’.” 

 

Hermione looked at him, looking impressed at his words, and clinked her wine glass with his. “Touchè.” 


	6. Good News/Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but the new chapter is here! And just as a disclaimer, I've no idea how wizards determine a cause of death, so there are some references to muggle practices in here. This chapter is quite longer than previous ones as well, but hopefully it does not disappoint. I'm hoping the next chapter won't take as long as I'm really getting back into the groove of this story, but no promises. 
> 
> Also, if you previously followed me on tumblr (@avdubs), you'll have to refollow me, as I deleted and then remade! Still at the same url. I post snippets of upcoming chapters, updates on fics, reblogs of other ships, and if you want to ask any questions or send me requests, that is the place to do so! 
> 
> Thanks so much for following this story, and I hope you enjoy!

**Hermione**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place _

 

Hermione was surprised to hear that Harry and Ginny were not attending the weekly Sunday dinner at the Burrow this week. When the owl had arrived on Friday morning bearing their letter, she let out a sigh of relief. They’d invited her over for dinner that coming Sunday, and she had a brief moment of dread as she thought of enduring Ron’s glares for a whole evening. There was no need to worry, however, she wouldn’t have to deal with any of the Weasleys. 

 

She was grateful for the joint custody she and Ron had, because it meant Rose got to spend time with her father (which she wanted Rose to have for the rest of her life) and Hermione didn’t have to deal with Ron much. It pained her to think about how their divorce had gone from amicable, to outright dislike towards one another. She was still a little upset about the fact that he was already seeing someone else, but it was more so the way he treated her whenever they were in the same vicinity that really bothered her. She knew she hadn’t been the greatest wife, but he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. 

 

Hermione had been looking forward to dinner with Harry and Ginny since she received their owl. It had been so long since she’d seen them, and she had a lot to talk about. 

 

She’d spent all week helping Draco and his mother. They’d finalized the official complaint against Azkaban and sent it to the Ministry, they’d requested an autopsy of Lucius’s body, and they had gathered solid information in regards to the typical condition of Azkaban prisoners versus the legal standard. So far, it looked as though they were building a strong case. Hermione had warned Draco and Narcissa not to get their hopes up, however. It was too soon for that. 

 

Hermione stood on the front steps of Grimmauld Place, a bottle of wine and a bottle of sparkling cider in her left arm. With her right hand, she knocked on the door. Despite the fact that it was Spring, it was unusually warm and humid. Hermione wished they would hurry up and answer the door before her hair turned into a ball of frizz. 

 

The door opened and Harry stood before her, grinning, with flecks of paint splattered across his face. 

 

“Hermione!” he greeted cheerfully, pulling her in for a hug after she’d stepped inside. 

 

“How are you?” she said, as she pulled away. “And what’s with the--?” she pointed to his face. 

 

“Ah,” he said, reaching up to touch his cheek. “James, Al and I were painting. I think Al might have a gift, actually. James, not so much.” 

 

She chuckled, handing him the beverages and following him to the sitting room. “How’s Ginny? She’s due in a few weeks.” 

 

“I’m  _ miserable _ ,” Ginny said from behind them; she’d just come up from the kitchen. “But I am so happy to see  _ you, _ ” she added with a wide smile, arms open for a hug. 

 

It wasn’t much of  hug, considering how large Ginny’s stomach was at this point. “Kreacher says dinner is ready, by the way. I was just getting James and Al cleaned up and settled at the table.” 

 

“Thank you, love,” Harry said, kissing her on the cheek. As they headed down the stairs to the kitchen Harry answered the question she didn’t even have to ask. “I still have two weeks until I’m on vacation. Since I’m gone Monday through Friday, I asked Minerva if Kreacher could come back for a few weeks. He’ll probably be returning after I go back in the fall.” 

 

“Actually Harry, I wanted to talk to you about that. I think it’d be nice to have Kreacher around during the summer holidays. It’d be an extra set of hands around the house. We’re already paying him,” she added, glancing at Hermione. 

 

“We can talk to him tonight, if you’d like,” Harry said, resting a hand on Ginny’s back as he led her to a chair. 

 

Hermione settled in on the opposite side of the table and thanked Kreacher when he set down a plate of roasted pork and broccoli in front of her. Her stomach growled as the smell of the food wafted under her nostrils. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. 

 

“Dinner smells wonderful, Kreacher.” Hermione commented as the elf laid out Ginny and Harry’s plate. “Thank you.” 

 

Kreacher bowed to her, “Thank you, Miss.” 

 

The three didn’t talk much while they ate; Harry and Ginny seemed as starved as she was. She practically gobbled down her food, but that didn’t stop her from noticing the covert glances between Harry and Ginny. Each wore a grin on their face, and a twinkle in their eyes. If Hermione wasn’t so hungry, she would have asked them then what they were smirking about. 

 

Kreacher was already at the table waiting to clear their empty plates, and swept them away with a snap of his fingers the moment all three plates were bare. Harry was fidgeting in his seat while Kreacher handed out dessert and poured the wine and sparkling cider. They all mumbled their thanks to Kreacher, and Harry kept his eyes trained on Kreacher’s back until the elf disappeared.

 

Hermione had just piled a piece of pie on her fork when Ginny said, “Hermione, there’s something we’d like to ask you.” 

 

When she looked up from her plate, she saw her two friends now grinning broadly. She set down her fork and gave them her full attention, her interest piqued. 

 

Ginny glanced at Harry, biting her lip, before turning back to Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkled. 

 

“I guess I should start by telling you we’ve decided on a name,” Ginny said, cradling her stomach. “Lily Luna, and well, we’d like you to be her godmother.”

 

Hermione gasped in disbelief, her eyes quickly brimming with tears. “Of course I’ll be her godmother!” she shrieked, jumping from her seat to hug her two best friends from behind. “I--are you sure?” 

 

“Bill and Fleur are James’ godparents, Neville is Al’s godfather, so yes, we’re pretty sure of our decision.” Ginny explained, ticking the names off her fingers. 

 

“Ron isn’t a godparent to any of your children?” she asked, shocked and imagining how much that must have hurt him. 

 

“Well,” said Ginny. “He will be Lily’s godfather, but we’d prefer that if anything happened to us, she’d go to you first. He won’t be happy,” she acknowledged with a shrug, “but it’s our wishes, so he can’t do much about it.” 

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not looking forward to Ron being angry with me too.” Harry grumbled. 

 

“ _ Please, _ ” Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. “Ronald will get over it eventually. Besides, I don’t think anything could top your fight during the Horcrux hunt.” 

 

Harry winced, “True.” 

 

“I’m a godmother!” she whispered to herself, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you both, I love you and I promise--”

 

“Hermione,” Harry said, now smiling too. “We know you’d take good care of her. That’s why we chose you.” 

 

Hermione sat back down across from them, still shocked by their request. She was proud that they had chosen her as the godmother of their child, and if she was honest, relieved. They hadn’t asked her when James or Albus had been born, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been disappointed at the time. Not that she had been expecting it of Harry and Ginny, but she had hoped. And now her hopes had come true. 

 

For the duration of her visit, Hermione ignored the burning desire building inside her to tell Draco of the good news. When she said goodbye to Harry and Ginny later that evening, and flooed back to her empty flat, she thought about how for over ten years it was Ron she wanted to run to and tell whenever she had exciting news. Now, that had changed. 

 

Upon hearing the news that she was to be a godmother, it was Draco’s face that popped into her head. As she brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas, she could think of nothing else but seeing Draco the following morning, and telling him the exciting news. By the time she was ready to climb into bed, she realized the excitement had changed to uneasiness. What did this mean exactly? And why did it leave her feeling so guilty? 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation  _

 

He walked through the front doors with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. It was a chilly, blistery morning and the weather did nothing to improve his mood. The results of his father’s autopsy would arrive any day now; he was simultaneously hoping the results would help their case against Azkaban and that it would prove them wrong, that maybe Azkaban wasn’t fully to blame. He hung up his coat on the coat rack by the door. 

 

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy,” he heard Gretchen call from behind him. 

 

He turned around, and nodded at her with a strained smile. “The same to you, Gretchen.” 

 

Adjusting the grip on his briefcase, Draco turned around and retreated into his office. The quiet and stillness was usually refreshing, but this morning it was like another weight in his chest. All it reminded him of was his father’s study. Draco forced himself to take a breath while he shed off his coat and set down his briefcase. He told himself he should scan over the stack of folders waiting for him on his desk, or at the very least check his messages, but there was only one thing on his mind right now. 

 

The knots in his stomach only tightened as he knocked on Hermione’s office door. What if she was too busy to speak to him? What if, after spending the last week together, she didn’t  _ want  _ to speak to him? And why,  _ why  _ was he worried about this so much? 

 

Relief flooded over him when the door opened, and Hermione’s smile greeted him. 

 

“Glad to see you showed up,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter. 

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asked, unable to hold back a small smile. 

 

He sat down in the chair in front of her desk as she sat down behind it. Hermione shrugged, a guilty smile on her face. “Maybe,” she said. 

 

Draco shook his head in awe, running his fingers over his stubble. She knew him better than she realized; hell, she knew him better than  _ he  _ realized. He had sat at the edge of his bed, hair ruffled and eyes puffy, staring at the clothes he had laid out the night before. He’d gone back and forth, fretting over whether going into work would be the best thing to do. Then came the memories of the first month after Astoria had passed away. 

 

He’d stayed in bed for days afterwards; Narcissa had stepped in to take care of Scorpius and Pansy and Theo had tried everything they could think of to get him out of that bed. At first they were kind, and gentle, trying to coax him out of bed with encouragement and sympathy. But as a few days turned into a week, and then almost two, Pansy had started to lose her patience. 

 

One afternoon she’d sprayed him with water with her wand, soaking him and his bed sheets. But the attempt had only angered him, and they’d left as he shouted at the pair of them before grabbing his own wand to dry himself off along with his bed sheets. It was only when Theo had come in a few days later to tell him that Scorpius was crying for him that he got out of bed to go comfort his crying son. 

 

He’d stayed home for that entire month, handing over the responsibilities and day-to-day operations of his father’s company to Blaise. He’d realized then, as he’d paced around his bedroom, that he could not let that happen again. Scorpius needed his father to be there for him, staying home was only relieving and comforting for so long. 

 

“I’m glad I came back,” he said, noticing the clutter on her desk and the books stacked on the ground around her packed bookshelves. 

 

“So am I,” Hermione smiled. “How’s your mother?” 

 

Draco shrugged, unsure how to answer her question. His mother was a tough woman, but his father’s death had hit her hard. She was never one to rant or rave about her emotions, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually witnessed her crying. She was difficult to read at times, but there was one thing he was sure of. 

 

“I think she’s latched on to her anger with Azkaban, and the Ministry,” he said finally, recalling the number of times he’d caught his mother pacing and muttering furiously to herself. 

 

Hermione’s smile turned sad.”I don’t blame her,” she said. “You two have every right to be angry.”

 

“Listen, Hermione,” Draco started, adjusting himself in the chair, but Hermione cut him off with a stern look and a shake of her bushy hair. 

 

“You’ve thanked me enough,” she said, her tone surprisingly patient and soft. “It really wasn’t a bother.” 

 

Draco nodded, though he still felt guilty. Hermione was a single mother with a two-year-old child, and an organization to run. He hadn’t even thought of roping her in to help, and yet she’d showed up unannounced on his doorstep. She’d shown up at the Manor every day last week, accompanied with more research material, parchments of handwritten notes, and refreshments. He knew she had a joint custody with Ron, which meant she was alone a few nights during the week. Had she just wanted some company? If so, why his company? She had friends, why not spend her time in their company instead? 

 

Not to say he didn’t enjoy her company, because he very much did, but he just couldn’t stop wondering why she had chosen him. 

 

“Draco?” he heard Hermione say, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

 

“Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “Just thinking,” he added, when she continued to stare at him worriedly. 

 

“You have a lot on your mind these days,” she sympathized. “I was just wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch today?” 

 

“Lunch sounds great,” he replied, trying to hide his enthusiasm. He hadn't admitted it to her yet, and he wouldn't, at least not anytime soon, but he enjoyed being in her company. She made him forget about everything going on his life. 

 

“Great,” she said, smiling wide. “Meet me in the lobby at noon?” 

 

After finalizing their lunch plans, Draco bid her farewell and returned to his empty office. His eyes fell to the stack of folders on his desk, and sighed. He couldn't put his work off any longer. 

 

Normally, he welcomed work as it served as a distraction, but between waiting for the results of his father’s autopsy and the upcoming funeral, he knew it was going to be difficult to concentrate. 

 

Draco sat down behind his desk, and pulled the folders towards him. The first thing he decided to tackle was payroll, as they were all due for the next paychecks this coming Friday. He and Hermione were on salary, so at least he needn't worry about them, but he still had to review Gretchen, the maintenance crew, the kitchen and dining staff, and the helpers (those who ran activities and assisted the occupants of  _ A Better Place _ ). 

 

It took him almost two hours to review every employee, and after signing off on the final paycheck, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. He groaned, feeling the stiffness in his back and neck. When he sat upright, his eyes fell to a picture of Scorpius, laughing at the camera, big eyes sparkling and bright. Draco’s lips briefly tugged upwards into a smile, before he felt a tug at his heart. He missed his son, and as much as he liked his new job and working with Hermione, at that moment he wished he was home with Scorpius. 

 

Draco had just lost himself in a daydream involving making breakfast for the two of them, sun shining bright through the large windows in the Manor when he heard the familiar fluttering of owl wings. His gaze switched from the picture on his desk to a brown and tan barn owl flying through the only open window in his office, before landing gracefully on his desk. 

 

Anxiety and fear flooded throughout his body as he tore the envelope from the owl’s leg, digging in his pocket for change, and ripping open the envelope without a second glance at the large bird. He heard it hoot softly in gratitude before it took off again. 

 

Draco’s hands were shaking as he took the parchment out of the envelope, opening the letter and preparing himself for what he was about to read. 

 

There were two formal paragraphs that he skimmed briefly, before his eyes landed on the piece of information he had anxiously been waiting for. 

 

_ Cause of death: Dehydration, starvation.  _

 

Draco felt his breath hitch, his heart stop for a second, before his body filled with rage. The shaking had spread from his hands to every inch of his body as he jumped up out of his chair and raced to Hermione’s office. He was knocking persistently on her door in a matter of seconds, knuckles protesting as they collided with the wood repeatedly. He didn't stop until she opened the door, wearing a confused frown. 

 

“Draco,” she said, sounding a bit irritated by his behavior. “I was in the middle of--what's the matter?” she asked, tone changing to that of concern after realizing he was shaking from head to toe. 

 

All he could do was hold up the letter he'd just received, confirming his worst fear. Hermione snatched it from his hand, scanning the parchment. Her brows furrowed upon reading, and by the time she was done reading, her lips were set in a grim line, and her eyes were wide with disbelief. 

 

“Well,” she said slowly, stepping back so he could enter her office. He heard her shut the door behind him before she sat down at her desk. “Draco, I know you are angry, and believe me, I am too. I'm….I’m shocked that our suspicions were correct, but this is good. This  _ proves  _ the case we've been building. Now we can make sure Azkaban doesn't continue getting away with this treatment!” 

 

Draco knew she was right, and a tiny part of him was glad they were going to be able to fight Azkaban. “I just…” he started, hands shoved in his pockets and a lump forming in his throat. “I wish it didn't take my father dying for this to happen.” 

 

He glanced at Hermione under hooded eyes, and saw her features soften. She stood up from her chair, slowly approached him as if waiting for him to retreat, and when he didn't, she laid a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“So do I,” she said quietly. “It's awful that your father went through this, Draco. But now we need to focus on gaining justice for him, and stopping the abuse towards other prisoners.” 

 

“I know,” he muttered, forcing down the lump in his throat. “I know. So tell me Granger, what do we do now?” 

 

Hermione offered him a small smile. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. “First thing’s first, can you send an owl to your mother? I want her here for this.” 

 

Draco nodded as she passed him a roll of parchment and a quill. He glanced up at her quickly, watching her search through documents in her briefcase and fumbling through the books scattered on the floor around her desk. He was overwhelmed with a rush of gratitude for Hermione Granger. He only wished he had the words to express to her how much it meant to him that he wasn't enduring this all alone. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ The Leaky Cauldron _

 

Narcissa had agreed to come by the Foundation after lunch, and Draco seemed a tad more optimistic given the unfortunate circumstances he currently faced. By the time they had reached The Leaky Cauldron, she had decided to hold off telling Draco her good news. It just didn't seem like the right time; what if he thought she was being insensitive? 

 

The Leaky Cauldron was scattered with few diners, some eating alone while other small parties sat in the corners of the room. 

 

Draco had placed his order quickly after they'd chosen a small table near the old fireplace, adding a pint to his order. She had raised an eyebrow, and when Draco saw the look on her face, he merely shrugged and said, “I need a pick me up.” 

 

Hermione ordered soup, handed back the menus to the young waiter, and before he could walk away, Draco asked for a pint for her as well. 

 

When she opened her mouth to protest, Draco leaned across the table and said, “I think we  _ both  _ could use one.” 

 

“It's a work day,” she countered. “Your mother is coming in an hour, and--” 

 

“Granger,” Draco said, running his hands down his face and casting her an exasperated look. “We're both single, working parents to  _ toddlers. _ You've been helping me on this case on top of it,  _ and  _ you're newly divorced. We deserve this. It's one measly pint at lunch.” 

 

Hermione frowned, sitting back in her seat. She  _ was  _ feeling a tad stressed lately, not that she'd admit it out loud. Helping Draco with his case was completely her choice, but the late nights reading over files and taking notes had been taking a toll on her energy levels. 

 

“Oh,” she muttered, “what the hell, it's just one pint.” 

 

Draco smiled in triumph. “That's the spirit. So,” he said, as the waiter set down their pints in front of them, “what's new with you, Granger?” 

 

“Sorry?” She said, trying not to sound too surprised.  It wasn't that Draco never asked her questions about herself, or her life, it's that he wasn't one for small talk usually. They had chatted about menial topics on occasion since he began working for her, and when they'd taken breaks from building their case against Azkaban, but she couldn't remember Draco asking what was new with her. Not to mention, he had just found out the cause of his father’s death; she wasn't expecting the conversation to start out about her. 

 

Draco took a long sip from his pint, wiped his lips with his napkin and repeated himself. 

 

“Well, erm,” she said, inspecting her fingernails, unsure if she wanted to share her exciting news. “I went to dinner at Harry and Ginny’s on Sunday, and as I've mentioned before Ginny is pregnant with their third child, their first daughter...anyway, they asked me to be her Godmother,” she gushed, regaining the excitement she felt when Harry and Ginny had first asked her. 

 

Draco had been in the midst of taking another sip of his beer, but at her announcement he'd nearly choked, sending a bit of the beer dribbling down his front. “That's…” he reached for his napkin, patting at his dress shirt, “that's wonderful, congratulations!” 

 

Hermione was only slightly taken aback by the sincerity of his tone as she grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you, it is, isn't it? They've made Ron Godfather but they told me if anything happens they'd rather Lily go to me first.” 

 

“So you're saying Weasley wasn't made Godfather of one of their first two children?” Draco snorted. 

 

Hermione shook her head. “I do feel terrible for him,” she sighed. “But as Ginny and Harry said, they had their reasons.” 

 

Before Draco could respond, the waiter had returned with their food, and asked if there was anything else they needed. 

 

“No, that will be all, thank you,” Hermione said kindly, smiling at the young man. 

 

“You know, I was so excited to tell you about my being made Godmother, but then you got the news about your father and I wasn't sure if I should even bring it up,” she told Draco as she picked up her spoon and stirred her soup. 

 

Draco frowned at her before taking a bite of his sandwich, swallowing quickly. “Why?” 

 

“Well, you know,” she said once she'd swallowed her mouthful. “I didn't want to seem insensitive.” 

 

He let out a hollow laugh. “I appreciate that,” he muttered. “I do, but we're going to be spending the rest of the afternoon talking about my father. The last thing I want to do right now is talk about him, or Azkaban.” 

 

Hermione nodded, her lips set in a grim line. “Right, of course. Well...I could tell you that early last month I went to drop Rose off at Ron’s and was greeted by another woman at the door.” 

 

She'd heard that misery loves company, and she had plenty of misery to share. Besides, being made Godmother was the only positive thing that had happened to her recently. 

 

Draco’s eyes widened, his sandwich only inches from his mouth. He lowered it, brows scrunched together and a frown on his face. 

 

“Shit,” he muttered. “Seriously? It’d only been a month at that point. I...wow, I'm sorry, Granger.” 

 

“Thank you,” she said kindly, because he truly  _ did  _ look sorry for her, angered even, by what she told him. “It came as a shock, I mean, I'm no where near ready to move on, you know? I know we didn't really want to be with one another anymore, but we have so much history, and we have a  _ daughter _ . I just...I didn't expect it is all.” 

 

Why had she brought this up? The emotions from the night of the encounter were flooding back to her now, in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron. She felt her eyes start to well up with tears, but she forced herself not to cry. Not here, not in front of Draco. 

 

“Theo’s asked me a few times now if I’m ready to start dating,” Draco offered, “My answer is the same every time.” 

 

The sadness was evident in his voice as he spoke, and she knew what his answer was. While her ex-spouse was still alive, she understood this. She’d lost not only her husband, but one of her best friends. It was clear to her now that their friendship would never be restored. It pained her every time to think about it. There was no way she was ready to open herself to another romantic relationship again. She was still surprised at herself for developing a friendship with Draco; what if she lost that eventually too? 

 

“Maybe one day we’ll be ready,” she said quietly, not believing her own words. “For now, we just need to take life one day at a time.” 

 

Draco nodded solemnly, crumbling his napkin as he finished the last of his sandwich. “Easier said than done sometimes,” he mumbled. 

 

“Easier said than done,” she repeated, hating the truth of his reply. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation _

 

The meeting with his mother had gone as poorly as he’d expected. It took him nearly an hour to calm her down, and that was with the assistance of a calming potion Hermione had offered her. Her rage and disbelief had quickly turned to grief, and he knew his mother hated that someone else besides her son was seeing her cry. That hadn’t stopped her, however. Draco suspected she couldn’t control it. It had hurt her enough to know that her husband was no longer alive, but to also find out he’d lost his life due to neglect had been too much for her. 

 

She had readily agreed to press charges against Azkaban, and Hermione had immediately begun looking into lawyers to represent them in court. It was easy to focus his energy on building the case, it was easy choosing to feel rage rather than the heartbreak that was slowly consuming him with each passing day. His rage subsided to dread as the day of his father’s funeral grew closer and closer. 

 

Despite the fact that April was coming to an end, and May was slowly approaching, he woke on the morning of his father’s funeral to gray skies, a chilliness in the air that bit at his cheeks as he walked out the front door of his childhood home, and a mist hiding the surrounding hills. Narcissa was stiff beside him, her arm hooked through his, and a stoic expression on her face. 

 

The funeral itself was pitiful; only he, his mother, and a handful of his father’s business associates had attended. Everyone said a few words before his casket was lowered into the ground. Draco watched his father’s body disappear inch by inch, filled with an overwhelming array of emotions. There were so many things he’d never had the courage to say, questions he never got to ask, forgiveness he’d never offered. 

 

Would his father have come out of Azkaban a changed man? Would he have realized his previous beliefs were ludicrous and harmful? Would he have  _ finally  _ accepted Draco’s marriage to Astoria (if she was still alive) and the way they’d decided to raise their son? Would his father actually be proud of the man his son had become? 

 

Draco would never know now, and the realization of this hit him fully and painfully as the small crowd began to disperse. His mother stood beside him, her face hidden by a black veil. 

 

“Come, Draco,” she whispered, “I think we’d both like to go home now.” 

 

He nodded slowly, staring at the mound of dirt where his father lay buried. As they turned and walked away, Draco vowed that he would be nothing like his father. He would not allow himself to become so cold, and disconnected from his own child. His funeral, when the day would come, would be nothing like Lucius’. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

_ April, 2008 _

 

_ A Better Place Foundation, London _

 

Hermione had insisted he take a few days off after the funeral, and he was begrudgingly thankful for it. He’d returned to his childhood home, where his mother gave no protest to his insistence that he would stay for the next few days. He’d been able to spend time with Scorpius, reading his son his favorite stories, and mustering the energy to make bubbles and colorful clouds protrude from the tip of his wand. He watched Scorpius waddle around the manor, only needing his father’s help when he came to a set of stairs, and they practiced new words. 

The grief that had taken over Draco just a few days prior was beginning to subside, but only to be replaced with the bittersweet realization that his son was growing up. 

 

After five days of lounging around in his pajamas, making breakfast with Scorpius and his mother, Draco was starting to come down with a case of cabin fever.

 

When he’d told his mother this on the fifth night, during dinner, she had cupped his chin, smiled sadly at him, and said, “You really are like your father in some ways.” 

 

The comment had stuck with him, and only added to his irritation and frustration. He’d known, and remembered, how invested Lucius had been in his work. As a member of the board at Hogwarts, and as a business owner. Yes, his father had been involved in his early years at Hogwarts, and looking back now, perhaps he had been  _ too  _ involved sometimes. It was embarrassing to think that his father had bribed Draco’s way onto the Quidditch team, and he could still hear his father scolding him for being beaten by Hermione in their final exams. 

 

His father had been dedicated to whatever job he’d held, but he had also been overbearing at times, stubborn, and unforgiving. Draco deeply missed his father, he missed the young childhood days they would spend riding around on his father’s broom in their vast and wondrous gardens. Though he missed his father, it was becoming clearer and clearer to Draco that he wanted to be as different as he could possibly be from his father. 

 

On the sixth morning, Draco woke at seven sharp, woke up Scorpius, dressed them both and made them a quick breakfast. He would miss meeting Hermione at the coffee shop, but he’d needed the few extra minutes of sleep that morning. Around midnight, Scorpius had come wandering into his bedroom, wailing about a nightmare he’d had. It had taken Draco nearly two hours to console his son and get him back to sleep, and by the time Scorpius was sleeping soundly on Draco’s stomach, he felt wide awake. It wasn’t until almost four in the morning that he drifted off to sleep again. 

 

With heavy eyes and a dull headache, he kissed Scorpius on the head, hugged his mother goodbye and headed off for work. The sun blinded him when he stepped out the front door. He held his hand over his eyes and thanked Merlin he had to apparate. In an instant, he disappeared, only to reappear seconds later right outside  _ A Better Place.  _ Looking in through the glass doors, Draco could see Hermione chatting with Gretchen at the front desk. Hermione threw her head back, laughing at something Gretchen just said. Even from here, he could see the pink tint on her cheeks. Draco smiled to himself, bowing his head as his stomach fluttered. 

 

_ Just ask her,  _ he told himself.  _ It’s nothing more than a play date for our children...a friendly, thank-you-for-all-your-help dinner.  _

 

Draco pushed open the door, stepping into the cool air, trying to gather his bearings. Hermione heard the bell jingle as he stepped further into the lobby, and her smile broadened. Gretchen gave him a friendly wave before swiveling in her chair, returning to her duties. 

 

“Look who’s returned,” Hermione said. “How are you feeling?” 

 

“Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not quite sure how to answer that.” 

 

In truth, he didn’t want to discuss his personal feelings in front of Gretchen. He readjusted his grip on his briefcase and cleared his throat. Hermione’s welcoming smile had faded, her lips set in a sympathetic frown. 

 

“Right,” she said. “It’s been a rough few weeks. Shall we step into my office? There are a few things I’d wish to discuss with you.” 

 

Her tone had changed to that of professionalism, and for a moment he panicked. Was she upset that he’d spent so much time away from work? Was his performance suffering because of his personal life? Draco kept a straight face as he nodded in agreement, following Hermione to her office. He looked back at Gretchen, who was bent down in front of the filing cabinet, muttering to herself. Did Gretchen know something he didn’t? Had they been laughing about him just before he arrived? 

 

Hermione waited until he’d seated himself in the chair in front of her desk before shutting her door. She shot him a tight smile as she sat down behind her desk. His heart began to pound in his chest as he waited for her to speak, his mind reeling with the endless possibilities of what she  _ could  _ say. 

 

Hermione took a deep breath, Draco watched her shoulders ride up to her ears before sinking back down. 

 

“Seriously Draco,” she began. “How are you? I didn’t want to bug you while you were gone, but I--” she stopped herself, shaking her head. “I was worried.” 

 

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it again. His heart rate started to slow, and he could have laughed with relief. She didn’t  _ really  _ have anything to discuss with him. She’d merely caught on that he didn’t wish to discuss this topic in front of Gretchen. Once more, it astounded him how well she could read him. 

 

“I was eager to come back,” he said honestly. “At first it was nice, spending time with Scorpius, being there for my mother. But I can’t stand being holed up. I needed to get out of the house.” 

 

Hermione nodded, seemingly studying him. Maybe she was trying to figure out if he was lying, or hiding more than he was offering. A silence fell between them, and Draco’s heart started to pound once more. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask…

 

“Listen, Hermione,” he said, sitting up straighter in the chair, as if it would boost his confidence. “I really want to thank you for everything you’ve done lately. Helping me with this case, allowing me to take time off work…” She was watching him with curiosity now, and his tie suddenly felt too tight. “Would you and Rose like to have dinner with Scorpius and I tomorrow night? They get along so well, and as I said, I’d like to thank you properly.” 

 

Hermione’s expression changed from curiosity to shock in a matter of seconds. “Oh,” she said faintly, bowing her head so he could no longer see her face. “That is...very kind of you,” she said with a small smile, “But we can’t. I, erm, have plans tomorrow night and well…” 

 

“It’s fine,” he said, feeling completely foolish, and disappointed. “It was a bit last minute. I just thought…” he trailed off, not wanting to tell her exactly what he thought. 

 

“It is  _ really  _ thoughtful of you,” Hermione said earnestly, leaning forward in her chair. “I’d just feel awful breaking a previous commitment.” 

 

“I understand,” he said, looking down at his lap. He did understand, truly, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment. 

 

An awkward pause filled the air as neither one of them knew what to say next. He hadn’t been expecting her to say yes, but he’d hoped. Hermione had seemed taken by surprise at his invitation, and he’d found it a bit odd that she hadn’t mentioned what her previous engagement was. She was open about her social life, always telling him what she had planned and about her time spent with Harry and Ginny. She wasn’t obligated to tell him, he knew that. It was just a bit odd was all; he was the more private one out of the two of them. 

 

“There was something I wanted to ask you about,” Hermione said slowly, looking apprehensive. 

 

Draco perked up, lifting his head to make eye contact with her. She bit her lip, fiddling with her fingers. 

 

“The War Memorial is in just a few weeks,” she began, speaking quickly. “And well, I was wondering if you were planning on attending.” 

 

“Oh,” he said quietly, feeling his heart sink once more. He glanced down at his left forearm, covered by his dress shirt, but he knew what still lay hidden beneath the white fabric. His cheeks burned with shame, finding her question absolutely ridiculous. “No, I don’t think I will be.” 

 

Hermione caught where his gaze had landed, and she pursed her lips. “It’s been ten years, Draco. So much has changed, and so have you. I think you should at least consider it.” 

 

“I don’t know,” he replied, no longer willing to discuss the topic. He hated that the Dark Mark still resided on his arm, constantly reminding him of who he was when he was younger, the horrible things he had done. 

 

“Think about it,” Hermione said, adopting a serious tone. “Your father is gone, and while it was untimely, and a rough time for you, the opportunity for you to improve the relationship the Malfoys have with the rest of the wizarding community lies with you. You and your father were completely different, and I think Astoria would have--”

 

“ _ Don’t,”  _ Draco intervened sharply, glaring at her now, his anger rising. “Don’t tell me what my wife would have wanted,” he said, hating that his voice was shaking. “You hardly knew her. You have no idea what she would have wanted. And just so we’re clear, the Malfoy name is not completely sullied anymore. Like you said, a lot has changed over the past ten years.” 

 

Before Hermione could get out another word, Draco shot up from the chair, grabbed his briefcase and stormed out of her office. Gretchen jumped as he slammed the door behind him, but he barely glanced over to look for her reaction as he marched across the hall to his own office. 

 

As settled in, trying to calm himself down, he waited for the sound of heels on tile, or knocking at his door. All was silent, however. Draco slumped down in his chair, running his hands down his face before loosening his tie. He shut his eyes and took deep breaths, his mind still reeling from the conversation he’d just had. Who was Hermione to tell him what his late wife would have wanted? Had she ever spoken to Astoria? And how dare she insinuate that the Malfoy name was still tarnished? 

 

When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell to the picture of Astoria, Scorpius and him lounging on that picnic blanket. His heart ached as he recalled that day like it was just a week ago. They were both so happy, so at ease with life. He’d had everything he wanted back then; a loving wife, a son they both adored with every fiber of their being, a beautiful home. Now it was just him and Scorpius in an apartment that didn’t feel like a home. Sure his friends and mother helped when they could, but it didn’t stop him from feeling alone. He considered Hermione a friend of sorts, but she had her own busy life, no matter how much help she offered. 

 

Without warning, every emotion he’d been penting up for months poured out of him. The tears started to flow before he even realized he was crying. As quickly as he could, he grabbed his wand and muttered a silencing charm aimed at his door. He cried for Astoria, who would never see their son grow up. When it came time to send Scorpius off to Hogwarts, it would just be Draco there to say goodbye. He cried for his son, who would grow up without his mother, and grandfather. His heart ached for his mother, who’d lost her best friend and the love of her life, and he cried for himself. From a boy who made the wrong choices, to a man who was finally happy, and now for a man who’d lost nearly everything that was most important to him. He cried until his throat burned and his lungs ached, he cried until his eyes dried up. And when he was done, he wiped his cheeks, shook his head, and faced the mountain of files that piled up while he’d been gone. 

 


End file.
